Welcome to the Jungle
by misssixty1
Summary: In the face of Armageddon, Scarlett, a college student and Daryl Dixon, a hard-hearted knight of Georgia find themselves coming together to try and survive the end of the world, and teach each other the meaning of life. Slight A/U, same storyline follows episodes with addition of original character, some extra adventure.
1. Intro

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**The Walking Dead. **_**I don't usually do AU, but there's a time for everything I suppose! My plan is to simply add a character so I'll be incorporating the show TL into this, along with the same situations but I'll add a few things here and there. This will be starting before the Walker apocalypse, because we all seem to love our Daryl. Let me know what you think, and enjoy!**

**Intro**

_4 Days before Wildfire_

"BARTENDER!"

The word sent shivers down Scarlett's spine as she stood in a dark corner of the bar, attempting to get past the childproof cap on a bottle of Aleve with shaking hands. Just as the summon reached her ears, her hands lurched violently as if on their own accord and the cap popped off, sending dozens of little blue pills raining onto the floor.

As the pills scattered onto the ground Scarlett looked down, staring with overwhelming emotion at the tiny ovals as her chest heaved wildly, a scream preparing to rip its way through her belly and fire from her full red mouth.

Running a hand through her brown curls, she grasped a handful of hair tightly, squeezing it in her hand so that it tugged against her scalp, pain radiating from her follicles and offering just a moment of escape as she focused on the pinching sensation, instead of the throbbing in her head, the aching in her feet, and the sharp pain in her right knee from being on her fee all day after a lifetime of knee problems.

"Can I get a refill please?" another voice called, this one female and before she could stop herself, Scarlett sank down into a crouch, ignoring the searing pain in her knee and gripping one of the shelves with her hands, back to the rest of the tavern.

She could barely think as the sounds wrapped around her brain tightly, as if squeezing her brain stem tightly and restraining all thought process and cognitive action. It was all too much, it was all overwhelming, and Scarlett found herself crouching with tears pricking the back of her eyes, rocking slightly in an effort to stop herself from crying.

"_Take a deep breath and close your eyes, try and empty your mind." _Came the voice of her adolescent psychiatrist, Dr. Martin who had diagnosed her with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and panic attacks at the age of 13, neither of which she had experienced so intensely in years, not until this night.

This particular night, the reason for the gradual undoing of years of medication and meditation was Scarlett's first night of work at Harry's, a local tavern owned and operated by her boyfriend Michael, which had been in his family for nearly six decades now.

In the sparsely populated North Georgia Mountains, Harry's was the one and only place in which residents chose to dwell, a choice that had been made many years ago when the place opened up to sustain the at home Southern values that area residents were dead set on holding onto, even with the emergence of a new world.

The thought of Michael's grandfather caused a deep chuckle to rumble in Scarlett's belly as she wondered how he would react to his grandson employing a girl with African-American heritage, but also _hiring _her as well. After being raised in a predominately-Italian town in Ohio, she was uncertain just what to expect with moving to the south. She had only ever been to Disney World and Montgomery in travel, and after years of northern living, Scarlett was absolutely certain she would be met with contempt from Michael's friends and neighbors.

Much to her surprise though, after moving in with the 26-year-old to prepare for a semester at the University of Georgia in Athens, she found that her ethnocentric view of the southern United States as a whole was challenged, as she was met with more friendliness than she expected.

Michael had been quick to assure her that it was not in fact because she was dating him, but because she was a genuinely likeable person that the local folk seemed to catch on to her, and after only a week, Scarlett found herself thinking that when she moved on campus, she just might miss a few of them.

In the particular moment when Scarlett found herself trying not to lose her mind however, it was not the people she was thinking about, but the tidal wave of emotion within her that churned like a the silver-lined Maytag she had come to love with her former roommate back at Syracuse.

A part of her was frustrated, yet another part was ashamed, ashamed that she could not even withstand a day of busy work after her boyfriend had agreed to hire her on the promise that she would be an asset to Harry's, not a liability. Because Michael covered the grill and he had more than enough waitresses, the bartending position was the only one left, and even with little experience except a crash course in drink mixing the night before, Michael had been more than generous. That thought that Scarlett was proving to be a disappointment didn't quite sit well, especially while the world seemed to cave in around her.

"Hey, hey." A voice said softly in her ear, and Scarlett gripped the shelf tightly as soft hands landed on her shoulders, rubbing them tenderly. Crouching down beside her, Michael Everheart gazed at her with soft brown eyes that studied her intently.

"You okay?" he asked gently, and Scarlett found herself unable to look at him, flushing brightly beneath his studious stare. She felt as though he was breaking through the very boundaries of her mind, reading every thought and examining each problem, and Scarlett, very much liked to pretend that she had no problems. She yearned with every fiber of her being to be perfect, and in that, having to acknowledge her problems brought about such self-loathing that she refused to even think about it.

"I'm fine." Scarlett replied sharply, standing up and trying not to scream out as a jolt of pain tore through her right knee. She had forgotten to wear her brace, a foolish decision that now was now coming back to bite her in the ass.

"Look, you've been working for 12 hours, you haven't even taken a break. Let me make you a burger or something, I can tell your knee is hurting." Michael shoved his hands into his pockets, and Scarlett replied by pushing a mass of curls out of her face, shaking her head and crossing her arms.

"I don't need a break, I can wait until I get off." She shrugged, and Michael replied by rolling his eyes, sending a buzz of irritation through her.

"You're taking a break, and that's an order. I can't force you to eat but I can and will make you sit down."

"What about the bar?"

"I'll take care of it. Go, get out of here."

Michael had a voice so imperative that Scarlett dared not argue with him further. Grabbing a pack of Marlboro Reds from her purse, she shoved them into the back pocket of her jeans before stepping from behind the bar, weaving her way in and out of packed tables, boisterous chatter, and raucous laughter.

Making her way outside, she sat down on a rocking bench on the front deck of the tavern and lit a cigarette with shaky hands, inhaling the tobacco gratefully and letting it soothe her frazzled nerves. As she exhaled a plume of smoke into the darkness, Scarlett could not help but dip her head gently and wonder if perhaps she had made the right decision.

A Syracuse Journalism Major, she had taken the path which had been laid out before her by everyone she knew, a path made solid by assumptions, forced decisions, and knowledge about just how she should be living her own life. It was deafening, the voices that rang in her head with suggestions and excitement for a future that she neither wanted nor cared for.

In truth, she dreamed of becoming a world-renowned artist, a decision which her parents had branded as nothing more than a "childish fantasy" that would likely end in bankruptcy, rather than financial success. And after all, wasn't that what was the most important thing in life? Being able to say you made enough to afford beach houses in the Hamptons and Beluga caviar each and every night? Yes, those were the things that were considered "important" to Scarlett's parents, having grown up in the upper-middle class in a blue-collar town.

Being accepted into Syracuse's Journalism program should have been the happiest day of Scarlett's young life, however that emotion belonged solely to her parents, and her parents only. In her heart, she would have been content to stay and go to community college if it meant doing what she loved the most, something that her mother and father refused to hear.

So, after merely one year at the school, Scarlett finally elected to make a decision that would cause such a rift between her and her parents that she would find herself kicked out permanently.

Taking the money that she had saved over the past few years, Scarlett decided to backpack across Europe, a dream that became quite real and offered her the experience of a lifetime. In part, Scarlett considered herself a naturalist, absolutely adoring nature and the beauty of simplicity. She would often go on hunting expeditions with her grandfather, spending the final days of summer recess before returning to school in the woods where he taught her all about hunting, hiking, and surviving in a world where a rifle was your only ally. Surviving in a way that her ancestors had, before the invention of technology shot everyone into state of frenzied dependence.

Scarlett savored those memories with her grandfather, indeed knowing that one day, memories were all she would have left of him. He passed after a battle with Pancreatic Cancer on her 16th birthday, leaving behind several rifles, each of which she would acquire on her 18th birthday after apprehension from her mother.

After several weeks across the pond, Scarlett returned home to find that her parents (more of her mother, along with her father's refusal to argue with her mother) refused to fund her sophomore year, or cover any other sort of expenses. In fact, they even banned her from returning home, and so, Scarlett found herself stranded and alone in the world, becoming progressively fueled with rage at the fact that her own parents were so determined not to let her follow her own path that they would not even help fund simple living expenses.

Luckily enough, her roommate Jessica was kind enough to allow Scarlett to continue residing in the small apartment they shared, even with an inability to pay the rent, and while Scarlett found herself helpless and lost, her knight in shining armor appeared, valiant and chivalrous in all his Southern glory.

Michael was the first serious boyfriend that she had ever had, and at 21 years old, Scarlett had never been in love with a boy, nor was she sure exactly what it felt like, however she knew that if she was not in love with Michael, it was something close. They had been together for five months now after all, and while their living arrangements were temporary, they certainly felt right.

It was an incredible feeling to Scarlett, to go to bed in someone's arms, and wake up with them there. Sleeping beside him in bed somehow felt more intimate than any sexual act she could think of, and somehow, Michael had a way of understanding her that no one else could. He knew the things she was thinking, he knew when she needed to be alone, and when she couldn't bear the very thought. Most of all though, he knew how important her dream was, and supported her fully in a way she longed for her parents to.

The last time Scarlett had spoken to her mother and father, was when she left a message on the home answering machine, letting them know she had received a full-ride scholarship to the University of Georgia's Lamar Dodd School of Art, something that she hoped would show them she had true potential, and was not just chasing after a dream. This dream, had the potential to become a reality, and with that, Scarlett refused to let it go.

The sound of screeching tires pulled Scarlett from her thoughts, and she looked up across the gravel parking lot as a gleaming black 1970 Ford Torino Cobra swept across, pulling up a cloud of dust and dirt behind it.

With great dramatics, the car swerved into a halt and Scarlett looked on from her spot as a man threw open the door, staggering around with the engine still running and making his way up the steps, taking no notices of her. From where she sat, the gentlest breeze pushed the aroma of heavy liquor, stale sweat and God knew what else at her, and with pale skin the man threw open the front door of the tavern, stumbling in.

Standing up, Scarlett discarded her cigarette butt, tossing it off the porch and storming into the tavern behind the man, her stomach sinking with each step. Perhaps it had been the fact that her day had been so overwhelming, but in the bottom of her stomach, Scarlett felt as though something bad was about it happen.

It may have simply been the very look of the man, the way his sunken eyes glowered darkly beneath barely there eyebrows.

As she stepped into the tavern, Scarlett's assumptions were rendered correct as the man staggered to the bra, tapping on the shoulder of a heavyset fellow in his 40's or so before raising a fist and sending it across his face.

The tavern exploded in discord, and acting solely on impulse, Scarlett found herself sprinting across the crowded tavern and throwing people out of her way to get to the altercation before it got any more out of hand.

The drunk pale man was now straddling the heavier one, throwing punches so violently that in the back of her mind, Scarlett feared his might kill his victim. Without thinking, she leapt forward, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly and attempting to pull him backward.

In the mixture of limbs and grunts, it all happened so quickly that no one knew exactly what happened, however they all decided that due to their mutual hatred of Merle Dixon that when they talked to the police that night, it would have been the savage drunk who had given the beautiful bartender a black eye.

Scarlett was sent reeling as a fist connected with her eyes, sending her to the ground that intense pain that seeped through her skull, reverberating throughout her brain. Gritting her teeth, a hand immediately flew to the organ which had already begun to water, just as the sound of Michael's angry roar ripped through the room.

* * *

Daryl Dixon stalked through the night, a bag of game slung over his shoulder as he stepped out of the woods and onto a dirt road, glancing up at the night sky.

Beneath the darkness, he felt each of his footsteps sink into the packed dirt beneath him, boots crunching dirt and rocks as he made his way home after a quick bout of hunting.

It was the only thing that gave him a sense of livelihood, the only thing that made him feel real through all the shit. He trudged through each day with eyes closed, waiting for some sense of satisfaction that he knew would never come. Daryl had so far lived a life of 28 years so bleak and dismal that he no longer believed in the life of satisfaction people longed to live, only survival.

He had learned a lesson or two about survival at the age of nine years old, when he got lost in the woods for over a week, surviving on nothing but berries and wiping his ass with poison oak. It was in those nine days that Daryl learned the true meaning of pain and discomfort, it was in those days that he learned about fear and loneliness, and in the end, he conquered, he made his way home to a place where his absence had not even been noted, and from that day forth, Daryl Dixon knew the true meaning of life.

The true meaning of life, was simply to survive. Not the finding happiness and the shit that people came up with to give themselves some sort of purpose and meaning to their lives, their selfish lives where they indulged in the unnecessary and forgot about all the suffering of others.

Gripping his bag tightly, Daryl felt the weight of several rabbits he had managed to trip within a matter of minutes, giving him a mere half hour in the forest, a half hour that he thoroughly enjoyed. When he was alone with nothing but the sounds of nature around him, going back to the roots of his great grandfather and his before him, he felt more fulfilled than pampered and greedy pigs that sat around all day in their corporate desk jobs. All he needed were the necessities, and he could be happy.

As Daryl traipsed through the darkness, making his way up the mountain to his home he stopped, listening to the sounds of a running motor behind him. Turning around, he watched as two headlights appeared, growing large and larger until he finally found himself looking at the grill of a cop car, swallowing down his disgust as the cruiser slowed down to a stop beside him, the window rolling down.

"Evening Daryl." Officer Morgan said, a liberal bureaucrat who had a nasty habit of pinning every crime in the mountains on Merle, even when they knew it not to be possible. They used his brother as a scapegoat for just about anything, and while Daryl could agree that Merle had committed his fair share of crimes, there was an equal number of those he hadn't committed.

"What you want?" Daryl grumbled, grasping the bag of rabbits tighter in his hand and wondering just what they could try and pin on him now. It was already getting late, and he had to get to work in the morning at a nearby auto-repair joint. No matter what they tried to say, Daryl made his money the honest way, something he longed to shove in their despicable faces.

"We just got a call from Harry's, seems your brother got into it and roughed up the new bartender down there and grand theft auto on top of that. You should probably get there, you want a ride?" Morgan asked, and Daryl turned around, wanting to put his hands around the fat man's neck and wring the very breath out of him.

"What you need me for?" he grumbled.

"Just get down to Harry's son, we'll see you there."

Without another word he rolled up the window, leaving Daryl in the middle of the road with the bag of rabbits still slung over his back. He was closer to Harry's than he was to home, and with an angry sigh, he shuffled down the dirt road, wondering just what lay in store from him at the tavern.

Harry's, the place his good for nothing father loved to go and get drunk, and by God did he drink. Daryl wasn't sure what pissed him off more, the fact that they continued to serve him there, knowing he had two kids he couldn't take care of at home or the fact that the guy who ran the place had a habit of making comments on the way Daryl and Merle lived. Michael Everheart was a brat with a silver spoon, handing down anything and everything he could have ever wanted from his granddaddy, a family that sat on money dating back to the Confederacy. Word was they were beginning to run low now, and Daryl longed to see the day when they fell from grace. He could look upon the proud asses and spit in the faces, the way they did all over the Dixon name.

With sullen anger Daryl made his way to Harry's dropping the bag of rabbits by the door and stepping inside. By now, the place had cleared out and when he walked into the tavern he found his brother passed out on the floor along with Everheart and Officer Morgan with his partner Officer Fritch.

"I don't understand what else you possibly need to know, you just got eyewitness accounts, he assaulted one of my customers, punched my girlfriend in the face and upturned half my bar!"

The simple sound of Everheart's voice brought about a rush of anger as Daryl approached the group, fists curling immediately as he set eyes upon the pretentious brat with his long dark hair and brown scruff set against a pale face. With the sound of his loud footsteps, Everheart along with the officers turned around, facing Daryl who suddenly found himself without words to say.

"Great, no we've got both of them in here." Everheart muttered beneath his breath, loud enough for Daryl to hear. Stepping forward, he glanced down at the sleeping form of Merle who snored loudly on the floor, face surrounded by a pool of his own saliva.

"Look, we're going to need to talk to her, she's the only one we haven't spoken to yet Michael. She is the one who got nailed in the face."

"Wait what are you saying?" Daryl finally spoke up as he took into full account the words they were saying. When he had briefly spoken to Morgan outside, he had been given the impression that his brother had maybe gotten into it with a bartender, but the thought of Merle outright hitting a woman _unprovoked_ was a completely new and unlikely story.

"According to eyewitnesses, your brother got into it with Irving Hake and the new bartender Mike's girlfriend got involved, they're saying he lost it and hit her."

"My brother don't hit girls." Daryl spoke up, temper glaring as Morgan chuckled under his breath.

"You forget about last March? Roughed up his girlfriend so bad he broke her nose?"

"That was different and you know it." Daryl shot back, doing everything in his power not to lash out at the officer and pummel his bones to a fine pulp. Glaring harshly, he simply stared at the man, flexing his calloused hands violently, rage seething within him.

"Sorry, I was in the bathroom. You guys wanted to talk to me?"

The voice was soft and warm, a slight husky tone that carried across the way, completely foreign to Daryl's ears. Turning sharply, he looked over to the bar where a girl stood, and girl he had never see around in the mountains before.

She had deep olive skin that covered lean arms, well defined and exposed by a sleeveless t-shirt that was cropped at the midriff. As Daryl studied her features intently, he noted her flat stomach, hip bones jutting from low-cut jeans that made disgust well within Daryl's stomach. The shirt clung to full breasts, cut low enough just to expose a hint of cleavage and rid him of any notion that she was some completely innocent girl who might have gotten on Merle's bad side. From the way she was dressed, she had it coming, flaunting curves in tight, revealing clothing.

Moving up to her face, he took in a slightly crooked nose that sat center between sharp cheekbones. She had deep green almond eyes beneath thick dark lashes and arched eyebrows, one eye covered by a bag of ice held with a small-albeit strong looking hand. Her wide pink lips were turned down into a frown, a small mole just shy of her left eyebrow. Luscious dark curls tumbled from her head, stopping about shoulder length. She was definitely an attractive looking girl, if not for the makeup caked on her eyelids and face, which made her look cheap and plastic.

"Can you tell us what happened tonight Miss..." Morgan trailed off.

"Scarlett. My name is Scarlett. Yeah, I was outside having a smoke when I saw him"-she nodded towards Merle-"come in like the devil was behind him. He got out of his car and stumbled in, and I figured that something was going to happen, so I came in just as he started beating the crap out of this guy. And…I don't know, I wasn't thinking, I just sort of jumped into it, and next thing I knew I was on my black and someone was screaming I had a black eye." She shrugged, clutching the bag of ice tightly. As she did so, Daryl watched Everheart put a hand around her protectively, a gesture that made him just about want to vomit. He wondered how he even met the girl, who was evidently not from around the area.

"Did he say anything when he hit you?" Fritch stepped in.

"He didn't hit me. And if he did, it was completely by accident. In fact in all the confusion I could've even hit myself." She said with a chuckle that was greeted by absolute silence. Looking around at all the faces her eyes widened before she momentarily glanced at Daryl, her brown furrowing.

"What do you mean he didn't hit you? Bar full of eyewitnesses say he clocked you right in the face when you tried to jump in.

"Look, it was such a mess, I don't think he even knew I was there. It was an accident, plain and simple."

"Now don't you go defending him Scarlett!" Michael exclaimed, stepping forward and ripping the bag of ice away from her eye so that for the first time, everyone present got a view of the extend of the damage.

Even Daryl found himself mildly shocked as he stared at the nasty purple discoloration that surrounded a swollen-shut eye, moist with some sort of unnamed wetness. Immediately, the girl's hand flew back to the spot and Daryl swallowed, vividly remembering the feeling of having such a shiner himself, whether inflicted upon him by his father, but other kids, or by Merle himself.

"Jesus." Morgan breathed under his breath and the girl looked down, her face reddening deeply under the gaze of four pairs of eyes.

"Look, it was an accident, I'm not defending anybody, I just won't have someone get in trouble with the law for something they didn't do."

"Honey, we've got an entire place full of people who say-"

"Didn't you hear her she said she doesn't even know he did it!" Daryl exclaimed, shifting all eyes to him. He stole a glance at his brother, unwavering devotion flowing through his veins no matter what Merle did or had done. He was his brother, and the only one left at that. Even if the girl was lying, if she was dumb enough to do that then why should Merle still take the blame.

"Who the hell even let you in here?" Everheart snarled, pushing away from the bar and stepping towards Daryl. Chest heaving, Daryl steadied himself, prepared and more than willing to take the bearded bastard on at any moment.

"Stop!" the girl named Scarlett exclaimed, grabbing onto his sleeve tightly and jerking him back with brute force, biceps momentarily bulging against her skin.

"Okay enough! We're taking Merle to the station, Daryl you know how far it is you want a ride?" Morgan turned to him.

"For what, she said he didn't do it!"

"We've still got him on drunk and disorderly conduct, grand theft auto, and assault on Irving. Look, I don't think Irving is going to press charges, we could just have him there overnight."

"This is fucking bullshit, I want that bastard locked up!" Michael exclaimed, instilling fury in Daryl's heart so intense that he could not restrain himself from lunging forward, stepping across the room as the need for violence raged through him.

His poorly controlled temper was the result of simply growing up in the Dixon household, and Daryl saw no problem with his behavior, seeing as how anyone who got on his bad side generally deserved it, and he could think of no one who deserved it than the pathetic piece of a man standing before him right at that moment.

"Okay boy, none of that! Merle's gotta have someone to come home to!" Officer Morgan exclaimed, wrapping his hands around Darryl and restraining him so that he jerked wildly, kicking and flailing his legs as Fritch contained his enemy.

"YOU COME AROUND HERE AGAIN I'LL KICK YOUR ASS YOU HEAR!" Michael screamed, as his girlfriend stood beside him looking back and forth between the mess, panic rising in her face.

With that, Daryl was dragged outside by Officer Morgan who assured him they'd do their best to have Merle out and back home within a few days, however Daryl could have cared less. He didn't give a shit about his brother or Everheart, the cops, or the slut that his brother may or may not have punched out. All he cared about was living in a world where he existed and alone, where he could move in and out of tree trunks, stalking prey quietly and becoming one with nature around him, surviving like he always had.

Daryl hated the world. He hated every part of it, every being, every belief, and every damn person that breathed. Humanity was vile, appalling, and the trivial pettiness of people truly disgusted him. He wanted to get as far away from it all as he could, away from all trace of the people who soiled the planet with their hypocritical "values" and their strange desire to do whatever it took to please others.

Each day he wondered what the downfall of the planet would be, and what sort of event would inspire the apocalypse, and with a smile he rested his head on his pillow, knowing that when the world ended, he would stand in the face of Armageddon and welcome it with open harms.


	2. Daryl Dixon, Forever the Charmer

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**The Walking Dead**_**. Glad to see there's some interest out there, keep on reviewing and let me know! I have a lot of plans for this story, and I hope to have a little fun with it too! **

**Daryl Dixon, Forever the Charmer**

_3 Days Before Wildfire_

Scarlett stared at the faucet of the bathtub, counting the steady drips of water that fell from the silver metal arm as she sat quiet and still in the warm water, her entire body submersed in the liquid tomb.

Swallowing, she stared blankly, her mind empty and her body numb in the wake of a chaotic night, one that had completely managed to unnerve her, sending her into an emotional frenzy that now left her sitting in the bathtub, surrounded by scalding hot water and peaceful quiet.

It was all too much, the noises, the smells, the sounds, and then the events that had followed a day full of shouted orders and impatient customers, asking for more beers that they didn't need. The course of Scarlett's first day and night at Harry's itself would have been enough to bring about a panic attack, however even that had been followed by the stern questioning of police and constant inquiries by Michael that sent her over the edge and out of space.

And now? He knew. So far, the entire time they had dated Scarlett had managed to keep Michael oblivious of the fact that she couldn't control her emotions, taking her medication secretly and plastering a smile on her face each time that things got tough, however now, there was no way she could continue to pull the wool over his eyes, not after having a full-fledged attack in the passenger seat of his car and wheezing so sharply for air that he almost took her to the hospital.

It was humiliating, it was embarrassing, even more so than the swollen purple eye she now sported, thanks to the brawl she had broken up on instinct before even thinking. Perhaps if she had simply stopped to analyze her actions, she could have spared herself a mental breakdown and the immense humiliation that came with it.

There was nothing worse than the way he looked at her in the car, as she fought to catch her breath and clutched a hand to her pain-stricken chest tightly. The way Mike observed Scarlett with pity in his eyes, pity and concern bombarded her offensively in the way a vocal insult never could. He thought she was weak, he felt for her, she could see it in his eyes, and Scarlett loathed nothing more than being pitied. She hated the look in a person's eyes when they gazed down at her, wanting to protect her and let her know everything would be alright. Well, she didn't fucking need protection! She could damn well protect herself, Scarlett was not weak, and she refused to be treated as such.

Lifting up a foot, Scarlett felt the water slosh around her as she rested the limb on the edge of the tub and sank lower, submersing herself to just beneath the nose. Staring at the silver faucet, she quietly contemplated the up and coming days.

In two days, Scarlett was to tour the campus of the University of Georgia, an overnight trip where she would meet prospective professors, mingle with her future classmates, and observe the campus she would call home. She couldn't help but wonder bitterly however, how she would be received with a massive black eye that likely would not go down by that time. Scarlett hoped that if she continuously kept a cold compress on, she could reduce the swelling enough that she would be able to cover it with makeup, but that was looking a little bleak at the moment.

Several raps on the bathroom door drew her eyes across the bathroom, starting at the white door as Michael's voice sounded on the other side.

"Babe you alright in there?" he called, and Scarlett remained silent, mouth still underwater. After the passage of several silent seconds, the door creaked open and the handsome young man walked in, closing it behind him and walking across the bathroom then taking a seat on the edge of the tub. As he did so, Scarlett looked away quickly, facing her right side towards him.

To add to her further mortification, the natural vanity of a young woman also came forth, and Scarlett found herself unable to look her boyfriend in the face. She knew that the bruise was grotesque, revolting even, the way the swollen skin protruded in a sickening purple shade and leaked fluids. It was horrifying, and Scarlett foolishly did not want Michael to see her like this.

Over the course of two hours, the image of strength and independence she had worked so hard to maintain was crumbling, leaving Scarlett completely ashamed of herself, ashamed and angrier than anything else. Why did she have to be so damn weak? Why couldn't she just keep her shit together like everyone else in the world?!

"I was doing a little thinking. How about we take the morning off tomorrow? I'll close down the place, and you and I can do a little hunting. Maybe bag a deer, hit the creek and get a few fish for a fry. The people will love it, and I know it'll take your mind off things."

"I don't need a fucking break Michael." Scarlett snapped irritably, although deep down, the call of spending a morning and afternoon in the wild sounded like heaven. There, surrounded by nature, she would be able to forget about the world with a gun in her hand, connecting with the natural beauty of the world the way her grandfather had taught her.

At this, Michael raised his eyebrows, never having seen the side of Scarlett that replied angrily and defensively this way. Immediately, she felt the slightest bit of remorse irk at her. It would have been so simple for Michael to call her crazy, and give her a subtle reminder that he had welcomed her into his home when she had nowhere else to go. Michael Everheart was simply too kind for that however, something that spurned her guilt even further as she sat quietly in the tub.

"Okay, well I need a break then. So why don't you and I head out tomorrow?"

"Stop talking to me like that, I'm not fucking crazy alright?!" Scarlett suddenly shouted, sitting up aggressively so that water sloshed over the side of the tub, splattering Michael's jeans. He jumped slightly, then simple stared at her, cautiously and guarded.

In her furious agitation, Scarlett was determined to prove that she was not someone who needed to be taken care of, even if that meant initiating a spat with her lover. Her emotions rumbled like a mighty storm, thoughts and feelings churning inside of her head wildly and pulling Scarlett into a state where being defensive was the only way to keep herself from feeling like the shit of the world.

"I'm not talking to you like anything. You want to go off the deep end and pull yourself to pieces that's on you and you only, but you're not going to blame me for it." Michael said sternly, and Scarlett looked away. Perhaps it was the thing she liked the most about him, he was brutally honest and refused to give into her little games. Swallowing, she stood up, water dripping down her body as she stepped out of the tub.

Michael reached for a towel, then tenderly placed it around her body, drying off her shoulders and neck in a way that was both comforting and romantic. Turning her head slightly, Scarlett stared at him through her free eye, before standing on her toes and planting the softest of kisses on his cheek.

"I take it that means you're sorry. Let's go to bed, I'm beat." He murmured, kissing her forehead and Scarlett closed her eyes under his touch, forgetting all that had happened over the past day. With a deep hum, she leaned against Michael and placed her head on his chest gently, listening to his heartbeat. He replied by putting his arms around Scarlett and leading her gently from the bathroom to his bedroom.

Climbing into the bed, Scarlett pulled the covers over her nude frame, shivering against the cold. Shedding his clothing, Michael joined her, rolling onto his side and putting his arms around her so that his body pressed against her own. Arching her back slightly, Scarlett melted into him, placing a hand over his own and lacing her fingers.

She would have been content if the world ended tomorrow, an asteroid hurtling from the sky and obliterating the human race. It was still strange to Scarlett, the way she felt so safe in Michael's arms, protected from the world and all its cruelty. Never before had she felt such devotion and outpouring affection for someone, and as she lay there, feeling his lips travel the back of her neck, Scarlett again found herself wondering if perhaps she was in love.

"You know you're beautiful and you always will be." He breathed into Scarlett's ear and she sighed in happiness, wondering how she could have gotten so lucky in finding someone like Michael. He always knew just what to say, and when to say it, as though he could read her mind.

Slowly, Michael's lips began to rove Scarlett's body, and that night, the made love furiously beneath the dim lighting of his rom. After they fell into a sweaty heap, Scarlett's thoughts continued to rumble over and over again in her head, and she closed her eyes clutching Michael's hands around her and praying he would never let go.

**WTTJ**

Daryl clutched his crossbow tightly, calloused fingers running over the sharp tip of an arrow. Standing behind a massive tree trunk as he watched a buck prick its ears and listen to the world around it, the mountain eerily quiet.

Bringing the weapon up, Daryl stared at the animal quietly, watching with intent as he stared into the very depths of its mind, watching the inhuman and inferior thoughts that graced its head. Nevertheless, Daryl could not deny the beauty of the creature, tall and muscled with large antlers that branched out to the sky, signaling a formidable opponent for other bucks.

Crouching down slightly, Daryl leaned over, trying to get a good shot before losing his balance. It was the slightest twitch, but just enough to cause him to reach out of the tree beside him, grasping at the bark which crackled off and sent the buck dashing in the opposite direction, bounding magnificently.

"Damn!" Daryl mumbled under his breath and hopped from behind the tree, racing as fast as he could in the direction of the massive buck, relying solely on instinct instead of taking time to observe its tracks on the ground. Angrily, he stormed between massive tree trunks and hopped over their roots.

With surprising stealth and intense agility Daryl Dixon moved, the sun beating through a canopy of massive trees and trickling onto the back of his pale and sweaty neck. He wasn't thinking, he wasn't feeling, he was simply relying on his natural instinct, instinct that had been drilled into him from the time he was born. It came down to learning your place over the rest of the creatures of the world, rising to the top of the food chain because if you didn't, you wouldn't last long.

Survival of the fittest, in all aspect. Daryl Dixon was a survivor. He was a survivor of abuse from his upstanding father, a survivor of the nights he had spent alone, lost, and completely useless in the Georgia mountains. He was a survivor of the persecution of his fellow citizens who saw only his last name, assuming that Daryl was at the bottom of the barrel just like the rest of his God-forsaken family. Yes, Daryl Dixon was a survivor.

Suddenly, Daryl found himself looking into nothing but empty space, and with a sigh, he crouched down, studying the ground and the disturbed prints left behind. The buck had been light on its feet, leaving only the faintest of imprints in the ground that would not have been detected by even some skilled trackers. Grasping his crossbow firmly in his hands, Daryl strung back and arrow and jogged at a steady pace, keeping up with the tracks.

Drops of sweat began to bead on his forehead, mingling with the strands of hair the crossed his forehead. As Daryl bounded through the lush padded forest floor, he caught a hint of movement that forced him to stop in his tracks and crouch down on his toes, legs shaking from exertion.

With its head bent over, the buck grazed delicately, teeth pulling pieces of grass from the ground. Its long limbs bent, Daryl studied the buck, eyes raking its elegant form and strong muscles. Standing up, he held up his crossbow and pulled back his arrow further, aiming for its head.

For a full minute, Daryl Dixon stood there, arrow pulled back, muscles taut, and the world still as he stared at his prey. His eyes watered, his breath hitched in his throat, and the entire world around him ground to a halt, the birds no longer chirping, the wind still. It was the moment every predator dreamed off, when life came to a halt in anticipation for that final moment.

Then, Daryl's fingers released the arrow, just as an explosion tore through the forest, ringing in his ears and sending birds from their nests, flying off into the sky. In confusion and milk shock he stood, watching as the buck swayed for a moment, then fell onto its side.

The sound of voices carried on the wind, and as Daryl made his way towards the carcass he looked down, clenching his jaw at the sight of a bullet wound in its side blood dripping down onto the glass below.

"What the-?" he began, just as the sound of heavy footsteps pulled his gaze up, just as none other than Mike Everheart emerged with his girlfriend, toting both a rifle and the black eye that had allegedly been given to her by his brother.

"What the hell do you want?" Everheart sneered, and immediately Daryl forgot where he was and what he was doing, aware only of the fact that he wanted to take this guy's head and bash it into the ground. Temper flaring, he glared angrily, fists curling.

"Could as you the same question." Daryl shot back angrily. Walking around the buck, he grabbed its head, yanking his arrow free and brandishing it in the air.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me. You see that bullet hole right there!" Mike exclaimed angrily, storming forward and his girlfriend whose name Daryl could not recall chased after him, her good eye wide as she looked from him to Daryl.

"I've been tracking this buck for five damn miles!" Daryl seethed as his enemy stepped closer. Without thinking, he held up his crossbow, aiming it right at that brunette head that he wanted to see splattered all over the forest floor. As he stood, he could think of nothing but just how much he hated Michael Everheart, hated everything about him from his attitude to the curly-haired bimbo that hung on his shoulder, carrying that rifle like she actually knew how to use it.

"Does that bullet hole mean anything to you? Or are to too damn stupid to hear what I'm saying?"

"Michael!" his girlfriend exclaimed as though shocked by his words, however Daryl barely noticed her voice as he lifted his weapon and swung it around violently, just missing his opponents head as he ducked, rolling onto the ground.

"What the hell you say to me?!" Daryl roared with another swing, fury coursing through his very veins. He could barely see as his mind filled with images of the bearded fuck down on the ground begging for his life like he deserved. The way he saw it his great great great granddaddy should've taken the whole Everheart clan and put a bullet through each and every one of their heads.

They thought they were so much better than everyone, the way they all sat on their pedestals and years upon years of money, handed down generation upon generation. The first Everheart had settled in the mountains underneath the eye of one of Daryl's ancestors, and somehow over the course of centuries, the tables had turned. Now the Dixon name was a disgrace while this shit lived off his family's money.

Daryl had gone to school for three years as a boy, and three years was more than enough. Even at the tender age of nine he knew he was an outsider, his brother made sure he knew each and every day, but that didn't stop him from wanting nothing more than the slightest bit of acceptance. It was Everheart and his friends that made sure that didn't happen, and the last day Daryl attended the third grade, he made sure they paid for it.

Without warning, Everheart reached behind him and pulled a gun from the back of his jeans, pointing it at Daryl menacingly, his mouth arranged in a snarl. Leaping forward, his girlfriend stood between him and Daryl, throwing her hands out.

"What the hell are you doing put that away!" she exclaimed.

"This ain't your business you stay out of this." Daryl said harshly. The ole of dramatic heroine was not impressive to him, in fact, he downright found it annoying and degrading as she stood there, chest puffed out like some sort of peacekeeper. He may not have known her well, but Daryl knew that people were the company they kept, and this chick was no exception. She even held her head the same way as Everheart, as though she thought she was better than Daryl. Well she wasn't, and while he would never hit a girl, he sure as hell would deal with her as he saw fit.

"Don't you talk to her that way! I swear to God Dixon I'll blow your fucking brains out you piece of shit." Everheart growled, pulling back the hammer of his gun and within a matter of seconds, his girlfriend whirled around in front of him, somehow managing to disarm him and throw him back several feet.

Daryl could not help but stop and stare, watching as Mike's face grew dangerously dark. Again, the air became strangely silent in preparation for an attack, and he wondered if Mike would indeed hit her right then and there. Instead, with a clenched jaw, he grabbed her by her elbow and yanked her forward, whispering in her ear through raspy breath loud enough for Daryl to hear a few feet away.

"I'll deal with you later." He murmured darkly, and as Daryl watched, his girlfriend's face remained strangely calm. Perhaps it was the black eye, however her expression stayed impassive, not a trace of feeling written from her full lips to her arched eyebrows.

"Take the damn animal." Mike growled, then turned his back, hurrying away angrily. As he did so, Daryl faced his wide flannel-clad back and could not help but get the last word in.

"You accuse my brother of beating on girls and you go home and do in your woman? Fucking joke." He shook his head, and Mike turned around, letting out a loud scream then raced towards Daryl in full rage, teeth bared and hands extended.

Because he was so tall, Daryl just managed to dodge him, jumping out of the way at the last moment so that he flew right past him and fell to the ground.

Pulling himself to his feet, Mike spit out a mouthful of dirt then turned to Daryl, lifting his fist.

"STOP!"

In seconds, Daryl found himself facing a head full of curly brown hair. As Everheart's girlfriend stood dangerously close, blocking Daryl from her boyfriend's blow, Daryl inhaled, catching the scent of ripe apples on her locks. Apples and pears, a delightful mixture of fruit that made him forget his current situation.

She was standing close, closer than any woman had really ever gotten to him. So close in fact, that her body almost brushed against Daryl's own.

Unlike the previous night, she was clad in a pair shorts, boots, and a rather large t-shirt that hid her frame. Her face was completely devoid of makeup, although Daryl wondered if perhaps it was just because she could not apply it with her bad eye. Nevertheless, she looked not like the painted-up whore he had seen last night, but an extremely pretty girl, much younger than he thought.

Her eyes were green, a shade of emerald that reminded him of lush leaves, the beautiful forest around him. What caught Daryl's attention more than anything however was the way she stared, as though she felt some sort of connection with the nature around her. It was a stupid thought but…he knew the look. It was the same one he always saw in his eyes when he returned home from hunting.

Turning around, she faced away from him and Daryl looked up, momentarily dazed. What the hell had just happened? He had left his mind, letting his thoughts wander like tiny colorful butterflies, dancing under the sky.

"Michael, it's not worth it, please let's just go. There's deer all over the place up here we'll find something else."

Instantly, anything he felt for her was gone with both her insinuation that Daryl was worthless, and her sheer willingness to give up. She was weak and pathetic, just like the company she kept.

"I don't want your charity." Daryl spat, backing away slowly. Quickly, the girl turned around.

"Honey I'm not being charitable, I'm just trying to be civilized here. We all need to just calm down and leave. You take it, it's fine." She put her hands up, and Daryl simple stared at her, upper lip curling in disgust.

"You can play nice all you want Scarlett. Dixon's don't know the meaning of being civilized." Everheart said behind her, and Daryl spat in his direction, before turning around and walking off, crossbow in hand.

Damn both of them, they could rot in hell for all he cared. He was done with all the shit in the world, the very shit he was forced to surround himself with every day. It made no sense, how one could live in the mountains and still find no respite from humanity. He would do away with all of them if he could, making himself the last man on Earth.

Angrily, Daryl traipsed through the forest, knowing that the heavy sound of his footsteps would drive away any prey within a mile radius. There was no point in staying out any longer. So now, he would be going home empty-handed, with nothing to do but face Merle who after getting out of jail with a hangover, would be in bad a mood as ever.

In fact, Daryl doubted his brother would come home at all, which was fine with him.

Being the last man on Earth sounded pretty damn good right now.

* * *

"What the _fuck _were you thinking Scarlett?!" Michael shouted the moment he slammed the driver seat door shut, turning angrily to his girlfriend. Attempting to remain calm despite the frustration that was building within her, Scarlett took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before responding.

"Mike, you pulled a gun on him. For all I know you would've pulled the trigger had I not done anything."

"You're damn right I would!" he shot back, and Scarlett found herself immensely surprised. In fact, this entire situation was shocking, for up until the last two days, Scarlett had never seen Michael so angry. In fact, she had never seen him anything less than the cheerful sweet Southern boy who had swept her off her feet with his unfound kindness and chivalry.

And now…Scarlett was looking at someone entirely different. Someone who had pulled a gun on another human being with fire in his eyes. She couldn't help but wonder now if there was something she had missed, if she had let her foolish infatuation blind her. Here she was, wondering if perhaps she was in love and now Scarlett realized that she barely knew Michael at all.

Oh she knew the fact about him, the intimate details of his life, but family lineage and childhood stories didn't speak as much for a person as hidden peeves and behaviors. Had she been missing out on this all along?

"So what, you're going to go to jail for the rest of your life over a damn buck?" she shook her head incredulously and continued to stare at him, wondering if his hair might suddenly change color or something else strange would happen that Scarlett didn't know about.

"You think anyone down here would give a damn if I popped one in that guy's skull. Baby, I forget you ain't from around here, but I can assure you, me killing Daryl Dixon would be doing a big favor to everyone out here." Michael chuckled cruelly, and Scarlett simply stared, completely unable to fathom this change in personality. It was as if he was a completely different person, the way hate burned inside him like a might fire. It set about many things within her, from terror to anger, anger for the fact that he would dare consider killing another human being.

Scarlett had learned from an extremely young age that life was precious. Each and every life, whether it be white or black, rich or poor, was as important as the next. It was something her grandfather had stressed throughout her life, and something Scarlett clung to.

"How can you say that? I don't know what there is between you two but he's still a person." She shook her head and looked out the window, away from her boyfriend.

"Let me tell you about the Dixon's Scar. They're rotten. Each and every one of them, going back to as far back as they go. Daryl Dixon and his good-for-nothing brother Merle have been nothing but trouble, just like their father, and his father before him and his father before him. My daddy always told me to keep away from them and I did, but when I was in the third grade, I remember some friends and I went off during lunch at school. Went off into the forest, and we found Daryl, sitting there with a pile of dead squirrels like he was having some kind of party or something. We were scared as hell, but we were boys and we did the only thing we knew, we picked on him. Should've know then that something was wrong with him. He was always real quiet you know, not like his brother Merle. No, Merle was loud and proud about everything he did. But Daryl…well you know what they say about the quiet ones…"

"So what happened?" Scarlett swallowed, urging him to continue.

"Well, one boy he shoved a dead squirrel in his mouth. Sent him home with his pants pissed. When he started jamming it into his mouth I tried to get him to stop but he went after me. Bashed my head against a tree until I broke my nose, I thought my momma would kill him herself when I came home. He never came back to school after that, and our teacher didn't care enough to go after him. The Diixon family is nothing but a bunch of racists, trash, and criminals. You still want to defend him?"

"Yeah but he doesn't deserve to have his brain splattered all over the forest floor! You're going to stoop to his level?"

At this, Michael simply stared at Scarlett then sighed, tilting his head back on his seat.

"Look, I can tell you feel sorry for him, and believe me, once upon a time I did too. The guy's father and brother used to beat the shit out of him, and you should've seen how scrawny he was as a kid. All underfed, dirty, never taken care of. But once you get to know Daryl Dixon, you won't feel so bad for him."

With that, he started the car, and the two drove back to his home in silence, where Michael dropped Scarlett off then headed down to Harry's.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, Scarlett held a cold can of beer in her hand, taking sips of the beverage and thinking as she kicked the back of her legs against the sink. Daryl Dixon.

She didn't want to believe that he was everything Michael made him out to be, but at the same time she didn't want to delude herself into thinking there was always good in people. In truth, there wasn't, and Scarlett couldn't always come to the rescue, but something told her that perhaps Daryl Dixon was just misunderstood. So far, she had not seen or heard of him causing any trouble. Last night he had been trying to protect his brother and today he was just out hunting, same as her. What was so bad about that?

The way the Michael simply said his name with such loathing was astounding to her, leading her to again question just how much she knew about him.

What Scarlett did know however, was that when Scarlett had looked at Daryl, he had found herself looking into the eyes of another nature enthusiast. She could see it from the way he wore it proudly on his brow.

It was interesting that he used a crossbow, but clever. He would be able to shoot without making noise and driving off any other prey. As Scarlett sat, drinking her beer, she wondered if perhaps she should give Daryl Dixon a visit.

Yes, that was exactly what she'd do.


	3. Southern Hospitality

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**The Walking Dead. **_**One review per chapter please. I am so sorry for the wait, I've been in school and extremely busy! I'll try update once a week with each episode, but no promises. I'm not sure what this whole Carol/Daryl thing is either, but I don't like it. Thank goodness that's something in my control here ****. I notice some of you don't care for Michael. Don't worry we'll be saying goodbye to him very soon, although I quite like him. Well, here's chapter three, enjoy!**

**Southern Hospitality**

_2 Days Before Wildfire_

Daryl wiped the back of his hand across his brow, removing droplets of sweat that had begun to bead on his skin. Standing up, he wiped his oil-covered hands on a rag, he threw it over his shoulder, looking down at his brother's bike.

"Should be good to go, just needed a little tune-up." Daryl said to Merle as he approached, exhaling a plume of smoke. The two brothers stood tensely as Merle looked down, then swung a leg over the motorcycle and took a seat.

"Good. Now to go-" Merle began, stopping as the sounds of a running engine grew closer and closer. Looking up, Daryl narrowed his eyes as an orange pickup truck barreled up the hill, bumping and bouncing all the way to the shabby House of Dixon.

"Who the fuck is that?" Merle barked, and Daryl remained silent, sharing his brother's sentiments. No one ever came to the Dixon home, no one besides cops and whores that was, and neither the former or the latter drove a vehicle of this sort. As the truck came to a halt, Daryl began to walk slowly, freezing in his steps as the door swung open and none other than Everheart's girlfriend climbed out.

"Hot damn. Now who might that be?" Merle growled, and Daryl turned for a moment, shooting his brother a harsh glance before returning his sights to the intruder upon their property.

She was clad in a pair of jeans that hugged her hips, skimming over slim thighs and cupping a noticeable rear end. Tucked into cowboy boots, Daryl observed her waves which she had tucked behind slightly pointed ears, each covered in rings from top to bottom. She sported a t-shirt which had some sort of sports team printed on it, glancing up at Daryl with those disgusting puppy-dog eyes.

"Hey, I know we got off on a bad foot and I thought I'd stop over and-"

"What the hell you doing here?" Daryl barked, cutting her off. Immediately she stopped in her tracks, face freezing and coloring slightly in a way that gave him much satisfaction. It felt good to watch her sugary-sweet smile slide right off of that pretty little face. He had seen the expression before, a condescending a smug expression that boldly said: "I'm better than you, and I know it".

"W-well I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. Things got out of hand and I know Michael can be an asshole to you. I made some things as my way of saying sorry." She breathed, looking slightly nervous. Before Daryl could respond however, Merle appeared, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

"Y'all two know each other? Why don't you introduce me to your friend?" Merle breathed obnoxiously, leaning against Daryl in a way that made him immediately shrug out of his touch. Breathing a grunt of disgust, he found himself once more filled with contempt for the girl who stood before him, a little buxom bitch.

"Hi, I'm Scarlett. I'm Mike Everheart's girlfriend." She said, extending hand. Merle raised his eyebrows in return, reaching out to grab it firmly.

"Yeah, the one I supposedly roughed up. Glad you saw things differently." He stepped in, he said, squeezing her hand tightly. Daryl looked between the two, watching her face only to find that her smile never faltered, a cold grin plastered across her face.

"It was an accident, and I don't even know who it really was. I hope there's no hard feelings. I've got some baked goods in the truck."

"Now how could I have hard feelings towards a pretty thing like you? Merle replied, his voice filled with a slimy bravado that threatened to make his little brother cringe. Wrinkling his nose he glanced at the intruder once more, wanting nothing more than to boot her off his land.

"You're trespassing. Got no place being on my land." Daryl growled.

"Look, I'm just trying to-" she began, but he cut her off promptly.

"Don't need your goddamn charity. Now go on, get." He threw his arm out, turning his back so he wouldn't have to look at her anymore.

Much to his satisfaction, he heard her boots crunch in the dirt, and the car door slam viciously.

"I thought he was wrong but maybe Michael was right, you are just an asshole. Fuck you." She growled, taking a basket wrapped neatly and nicely in plastic and shoving it into Merle's hands. Merle jumped back in confusion, and Daryl allowed himself to throw one last look at Scarlett who stopped, as though waiting for him to say something.

"I said get off my land, or I'll make you!" he exclaimed. This time, she responded by raising her hand and offering a silent and simple middle finger. Shaking her head, Daryl watched in a mixture of amusement and anger as she got into Everheart's truck and peeled out without so much as another glance. He had to hand it to her, she refused to show nothing less than ferocity, and Daryl respected that despite the fact that he still wanted to knock her off her feet, preferably with the back of his hand.

The sound of crinkling caught his attention, and turning his head, Daryl found Merle digging into the basket, grimy hands pulling out a large muffin.

"Got that ass and she can cook. You've got a lot to learn little brother but hell, you don't want her I'll gladly take her. Got them nice tits too, you can tell she's a little freak."

"Shut up." Daryl snapped, clenching his jaw. He wanted to hear nothing less than what his brother wanted to do to that little bimbo. That must have been exactly what she wanted too. No girl walked around dressed like that with pure intentions, she was a whore, that much he could tell from a mile away.

It was so easy for women. All a girl like her had to do was puff out her chest and bat her eyelashes, and get whatever she wanted without doing a damn thing to deserve it. It disgusted Daryl, more than anything. Where were the real women? Women that could stand on their own two feet without getting weepy at the drop of a pin. All of his life he had managed to stay away from the opposite sex, and he planned to keep it that way.

* * *

"Baby you alright?"

Scarlett nearly jumped out of her skin, a folded shirt flying out of her hands and onto the floor as Michael entered the room, two beers in hand. Spinning around, she glanced at her boyfriend nervously, for the first time that day.

"Christ you scared me." She breathed, partly trying to hide her guilt from what had happened earlier that day. She still had not told Michael of her trip to the Dixon home, and certainly did not plan to. It was perhaps knowing that her boyfriend was right however, that made her feel all the worse.

Daryl Dixon was no good, that much was evident. Never in her young life had Scarlett seen someone so resistant to simple human kindness. It took a man who was truly an asshole, to find fault in an act of simple kindness and assholes were people Scarlett truly did not like.

She wanted to go back and give him a piece of her mind, send the palm of her hand across his cheek and show him that she wasn't just a dumb slut. It was evident in the way he looked at her, that was how he saw her, judging before knowing the truth inside. It was infuriating and frustrating.

"Sorry about that. You all done packing?" Michael asked handing Scarlett a bottle of Bud, and she accepted it, grateful for his neglect to delve any further into her flustered emotions. Glancing down at the duffel bag on the bed, Scarlett picked up the dropped shirt and slipped in.

Tomorrow she would leave for her stay at the university, getting to know the campus and town a little bit. It would certainly be a nice break from a place where she was now beginning to see the very same people each and every day, and Scarlett relished the opportunity to be around the hustle and bustle of the city once again.

Taking a sip of her beer, Scarlett swallowed down the carbonated liquid before sitting down on the bed, crossing her legs and sighing. A part of her was anxious like a preteen on the first day of middle school. Would people like her? These would be people Scarlett would live with a see for the next four years, it was important to make social connections of some sort.

Back at Syracuse she had failed in balancing a social, school, and work life, talking to only her roommate and those around her. She felt cut off from the community of such a prestigious university that held so many, and because of that was more alone than ever.

This would be a fresh start, a new opportunity. Scarlett was completely and utterly alone now, cut off from her parents who refused to support her in her dream. All she had was Michael, and each and every day she feared he would realize that he was too good for her.

"You look nervous." He commented, sitting down beside Scarlett on the bed and letting his knee brush against her own in an innocent and sweet gesture that caused her to smile. Looking up, she glanced into his dark eyes and shrugged.

"I guess I am." She replied honestly, taking another swig of beer.

"I don't know why. You give yourself absolutely no credit Scar. You're so damn amazing and you don't even realize it."

"Stop. Being flattered isn't going to make me feel better." She shook her head.

"You're so damn frustrating. You're beautiful, smart, talented, funny, and the nicest girl around. Everyone here loves you and that's after how many days? You need to stop worrying and look at the good things about yourself. I know you want to be perfect, but there's no such thing. You're pretty close though."

At this Scarlett remained silent. Michael always had a way of saying exactly what she needed to hear, while making it seem 100% honest. Whether he truly believed the things he said she did not know, but it was just what he needed.

"Why are you so good to me?" she breathed, staring at him. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his own, not wanting to let go.

For some strange reason, things felt different. As Scarlett found herself in Michael's arms, it seemed as though they were parting forever, rather than just for a few days. Squeezing him tightly she refused to let go, leaning in and kissing him passionately.

Nuzzling her head in his chest, she inhaled deeply taking in his familiar scent. It filled Scarlett's nose, wrapping around her and making her feel safe. All she could think about was feeling his naked body against her own, having him pumping inside of her slowly.

The thing about fucking with Michael was…well, it wasn't really fucking. It was perhaps the only fault Scarlett could find with him. He was tender, gentle, as if making it a point to be as caring as it could, but that was the very thing.

Scarlett didn't want to be caressed. She didn't want the romanticism, she wanted to be taken and freed, violently even. She wanted to be taken control of, held down and fucked all sorts of ways.

She was too afraid to ask, to let Michael know that her deepest desires lay with brutality, but the simple fact was with each time they had sex she was becoming less and less satisfied, less and less excited. It wasn't until their fifth time together that Michael had even brought her to a climax, and now, she was beginning to dread the up and coming days where she would be forced to fake it.

Right now though, that didn't matter. Scarlett wanted to feel Micheal inside of her, and wanted to be close to him. She could not explain why or how, but it was as if the world was coming to an abrupt end and she needed to say her final goodbyes.

It was a strange, ominous feeling that she couldn't shake, even as she laid beside him hours later, trying to close her eyes and go to sleep. It was paranoia of the worst kind, brought about by something Scarlett didn't know.

Brushing it off, she closed her eyes and settled into the body beside her, preparing for a new day.

* * *

_1 Day Before Wildfire_

Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder, tucking a squirrel into his bag carelessly before ducking under a branch. Crouching near the ground he peered beneath a mass of branches, before looking down at the grown and trying to determine any nearby prey.

He didn't need food, there was still meat sitting at home, but with his free time Daryl found himself unable to stay inside. With a day off from work he was antsy for some reason, and could think of nothing but being out in the wilderness where he felt at ease.

He was unnerved, uneasy, and couldn't put his finger on it. It was strange, as if there was a storm brewing in the air. Something big was coming, and it put him on edge like no other.

The sound of a subtle voice in the wind stopped Daryl in his tracks and he glanced around, looking for its source. It was faint, perhaps further than he thought, yet the fact remained that someone was here in his woods, more specifically in the 2-mile radius he remained exclusive to since childhood.

He wasn't sure what had drawn him to that spot to begin with, but for years now it had become home. After years of hunting, the area had become a place of solitude, alive with nothing but the birds and insects. Once in a while a buck came by, but for the most part large animals stayed away. As just as well, because it gave Daryl a place to sit down and relax, recoup, and stare up at the stars in the sky when the world seemed at its worst.

The thought of anyone disturbing his sanctuary immediately set his hairs on end. His territorial nature sparked, causing a deep grumble of dissent within Daryl's belly. Whoever it was, they wouldn't be there much longer.

With silence and agility, he clutched his crossbow in his hands. Darting in and out of fell branches, Daryl made his way through several yards of foliage then stopped in front of a thin tree trunk covered in knife marks.

Grasping at the trunk tightly, he swung his crossbow over his shoulder once again then hitched himself up, immediately finding footing in the small indent that had formed over the past years. Hoisting himself up he climbed, lifting himself up onto a branch and steadying himself before looking down the clearing near a stream he used to bathe in occasionally.

Squinting, Daryl found glanced into the clearing only to find himself staring at the last person he wanted to see: Scarlett.

She stood next to the stream-_his_ stream-clad in nothing but a bra and panties. Wringing out a mass of wet hair Daryl simply stood and stared, frozen in his footsteps as thousands of thought flew through his head at once, each more overwhelming than the last.

First and foremost there was the fact that she was standing here before him, very much unclothed and very much oblivious to the fact that she was being watched. It wasn't as though Daryl had never seen a woman unclothed before, in fact, growing up in the Dixon household he had seen plenty of the women his brother and father brought around. Yet this was different.

Her body was lean with well-defined muscles, yet not in a masculine way. Her abdomen, completely flat with subtle curves on the sides that led to curved hips and strong thighs. It was strange, the way she maintained such feminine attributes while still having such a lean body. Daryl could do nothing but stare, especially as Scarlett arched her back, running her hands through her hair and thrusting out her large breasts, barely contained by a black lace bra.

It was…strange. Growing up Daryl had never been interested in porn rags, and remained fairly secluded so talking to girls never really presented itself. Besides that, he had no real interest in the fairer sex. Why should he? Women were nothing but trouble. Dramatic, superficial messes with no concern about anything besides their looks and the most trivial things.

He couldn't look away though. Daryl was…curious. He was intrigued by the way Scarlett's breasts pushed up against her bra, and as she bent down to shake out her hair he wondered what it would be like to see her completely naked.

Then, there was the fact that she was in his spot to begin with. How did she know where this place was? Why was she here? Why couldn't she just mind her own damn business and stay out of his life? Every time he turned around, she was intruding with her baskets of muffins and her incredible body.

_Incredible_?

He froze at the thought. Had he really just described her body in such a way? Swallowing, Daryl continued to observe as Scarlett slowly dressed, sliding on a pair of jeans. Spinning around, she reached down to grab her shirt and he Daryl found himself faced with the thought of her backside, which was just as nice as the rest of her.

Clad in revealed panties, Daryl wondered would it would be like to reach out and touch it. It looked soft, and he couldn't shake the thought of cupping and squeezing her ass in his hands.

Quietly, she began to sing and although Daryl could not make out the words she mouthed her voice was beautiful. Sultry tones dominated a husky voice. Had he heard her voice without seeing her, he would have been entranced. She sounded like one of those Hollywood actresses of old. Daryl never got to see movies much as a kid, but sometimes when he would go into town he'd allow himself to stop and listen in through the open window of Jim Hanson.

Hanson was a bitter Vietnam vet, staggering around the town stinking of booze and obsession with the previous century. He took pride in nothing but his uniform and his old movies, shacking up in his house each and every day muttering to himself. Daryl had only come across him once, however the fellow seemed to have a sort of respect for an outcast such as himself. He gave Daryl a bag of apples and sent him on his way, warning him to never trespass on his land again and Daryl never did again.

Leaning in slightly, he allowed himself to ignore everything but the sound of her voice, listening intently and forgetting the details of the entire situation.

"…Looking everywhere haven't found him yet, he's the great affair I cannot forget, only man I'll ever think of with regret…"

Without thinking, Daryl lifted a hand and swatted at a nearby insect which threatened to land right between his eyes. The moment he shifted, he suddenly lost his footing, and the familiar branch that had supported him for years gave way, sending him cascading to the ground.

"GOD DAMMIT!" he screamed as his crossbow slammed violently into his spine. Rolling on his side, Daryl tried to catch his breath, his entire body jarred from the 15-foot-fall. Stunned and angry, he pulled himself onto his feet and glanced up. The branch that had broken hung dangerously, swinging limply as if waiting to become detached and impale Daryl right where he lay.

Crouching down, he tried to stop the singular massive ache that resonated throughout his bones, and knew that come morning it would be ten times worse.

"So, you treat me like shit then spy on me. Something you want to tell me?"

That voice. No longer was it husky, beautiful, but this time sent a flare of ire through Daryl's body. Frowning, he forced himself to look up at her. Her face was full of irritable amusement, as though she though he was getting some sort of thrill out of watching her.

"No one is spying on you. This is my place." He shot defensively, feeling his face redden slightly.

"It's a fucking forest. How exactly does it constitute as your property?" she snarled, her face becoming more vicious than Daryl had seen. Immediately, the seemingly vapid girl he had come across was gone, and he found himself facing a formidable opponent. It was as if she had shed her sweetness like a second skin, the way her eyes danced with fire and her voice dripped with ice.

"I been coming here since I was a kid." He retorted.

For a moment, Scarlett simply stared at Daryl before snorting in such a condescending way that he wanted to reach out and slap her. Instead though, he simply stood as she brushed past him, tossing her wet locks over her shoulder like some sort of princess.

Watching he retreat, Daryl could think of nothing better than never seeing her again. But there was still the small part of him that accepted her, even wanted her around just so he could have someone to swap insults with. She held her own and he liked that, even though she was an insufferable bitch.

As he continued to watch her walk away, his eyes immediately flew to her backside and again, Daryl wondered how it would feel. What would her body feel like in his hands.

"Fucking sick." He muttered allowed, completely disgusted with himself. He didn't want to think about such things. Without another word, he reached back and clutched at his crossbow, storming away in a haze of confusion and frustration.


	4. The Beginning of the End

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**The Walking Dead**_**. Sorry it's been awhile, it's been difficult trying to get this up with school and everything. Hopefully I can have this up before 2013! I'm on break now, so I'll try and get in about two updates before I return for the semester, and definitely more before the show returns in February. I also want to stress that I'm not trying to write Daryl off as a jerk, it's just Scarlett that brings out the worst in him. We all know what he's like deep down, but when he's around Scarlett all those Dixon qualities sort of come out. That will be changing quite shortly however. So, here we go! Enjoy!  
**

**The Beginning of the End**

"So, you got a boyfriend? You look like you've got a boyfriend."

Scarlett smirked slightly, removing a white button-down blouse from her duffel bag and unfolding it carefully. It was nice to be around girls again, able to partake in gossip and silly things such as her relationship. Just being in the company of other girls her own age was enough to relax her more than she had been in ages, although she was a nervous wreck inside.

"Yeah I do, his name is Michael." She replied, feeling a slight flush climb into her cheeks. It was one of those things that made Scarlett realize just how much she liked Michael. Never before had the simple thought of any boy been able to make her flush.

_Except Daryl Dixon_. She thought bitterly, although the heat that flooded her face when she thought of the latter was for a completely different reason.

The arrogant hillbilly ass and his refusal to just let her be nice to him. She of people understood that it was impossible to be liked by everyone, but his simple arrogance put her on edge like nothing else could.

Then there was what had happened that morning. Scarlett had decided to go for a quick hike and elected for a refreshing dip in the stream after getting herself all sweaty, only to discover that she was not as alone as she thought. His fall meant the obvious: he had been watching her, and Scarlett did not know for how long, all she knew was that it felt good to catch him in the act. After shoving insults and spitting ignorance in her face, it was nice to see that he wasn't above voyeurism, and from the looks of his flustered face he just may have enjoyed it.

Michael had been kind enough to lend Scarlett his truck, insisting that he had gotten along without it before, and certainly could now. After all, most of his day was spent at Harry's and the walk back wasn't far from his place. After much arguing about it, he all but shoved Scarlett into the car and bid her farewell with a kiss on the forehead.

So, here she would stay for the next two days getting to know the campus and exploring what lay in store for her future. She would be rooming with two girls named Jennifer and Natalie, both out-of-state seniors who were completing the nursing program and who were both equally friendly.

"Ooh, Michael. Sounds cute. What's he like?" Jennifer asked, sitting cross legged on her bed.

"Jenny stop you're going to scare her off you're so fucking nosy. Don't mind her Scarlett, she has to know every single detail about everybody's life."

"Shut up Natalie." Jennifer shot back and the two giggled lightly, making Scarlett even more at ease. Setting her things down on the spare bed in the corner which once belonged to a girl who had dropped out, she sat down on the bed and bit her lip. She would have a tour around the campus in about twenty minutes, and after would meet with an adviser on planning her schedule for the upcoming semester.

"So where are you from?" Natalie asked.

"Ohio originally. I went to Syracuse then moved down here with Michael. I've had my heart set on this place though."

"Really that's cool. You know we were planning a girls night out tomorrow night you should come. Jenny knows this guy that works the door at a really cool club downtown and we were going to head down. You could be a new member of our group!" Natalie exclaimed and immediately Scarlett's walls went up. Of course she would enjoy such a venture, after all she loved dancing and the nightlife but interacting with people in a group? She wasn't sure if she could handle that just yet. She was already trying to adjust to being on a campus full of people as compared to a mountain.

"Thanks. You're from Arizona right?" she replied, avoiding accepting her invitation at the moment.

"Yeah, and Jenny's from Alabama. You know you're really pretty. I know that sounds weird but you're like _really_ pretty. What are you?"

"Mostly black and Italian, then French and Cherokee Indian." Scarlett replied before standing up, suddenly uncomfortable once more. She generally didn't like people to comment on her looks, it gave her the impression that they say her as just that and not what she truly was. The thing about Michael was that unlike other guys, he listened to what she had to say and knew she had something to say in the first place. She wasn't just a pretty face, and she wanted people to know that.

"Wow that's such an interesting combination. I'm just plain old Polish."

Right in that moment Scarlett's phone rang and she was spared from increasingly uncomfortable conversation. Pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans she looked down to see it was none other than Michael himself.

"Hey honey, I was just talking about you." Scarlett said, immediately drawing looks from the girls across the room. They glanced at each other and Scarlett could almost see their ears pricking for a chance to listen to the boy she had just talked about.

"Good things I hope. I was just calling to see if you got in okay. Everything alright? You liking it up there so far?"

"Well I hardly think I can scope out the place in the twenty minutes I've been here but yes, I like it. I'm staying with the two nicest girls. Hope you're surviving without me." She joked.

"Don't know how I will. Really though, I'm going to have to bartend for the next two days, people sure as hell are gonna miss you."

"You know I don't think I mentioned it, but you'll never guess what happened before I left this morning. I went hiking for a bit and took a dip and guess who I ran into half-clothed and spying on me?"

"Who?"

"Your dear friend Daryl." Scarlett pursed her lips. In all truth had she not loathed him so much she never would have brought it up, but at this point it would be good for Michael to go kick his scruffy ass. Served him right for being such a dick.

"_What_?" Michael all but screamed furiously through the phone.

"Yeah. I heard this big crash and found him on the ground. The guy was watching me naked."

"You know we used to always think he was gay. Never showed interest in a girl. Ever. Guess we were wrong. Well next time I see him around I'm going to kick his ass, but I've gotta go babe. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay bye!" Scarlett exclaimed then hung up the phone. There was something that disturbed her however, a small matter that continued to bite in the back of her brain all day since that incident in the woods.

As Scarlett had walked away, as she had gotten into the car she found herself the slightest bit…excited. She thought it was just her anger that made her heart race and all parts of her body flush, but she knew she could not deny the simple fact that being watched—more particularly being watched by someone who she felt so strongly about—was exciting to her. She wondered how much he had seen. Had he seen her naked? Had he fantasized about her? What would it be like to be laying beneath him? Would he fuck her in ways that Michael never could?

_Fuck_! She exclaimed internally, upper lip curling in disgust. Why the hell was she even thinking about him? He wasn't even _that _attractive. Well, he had a certain way about him. The way his biceps bulged beneath his skin and his brown hair framed his face.

_You're with Michael. You've been dating him for months and you just might love him, not the disgusting piece of shit creep who can't even exhibit common courtesy who's probably never even fucked a girl. _Scarlett thought bitterly then stood up quickly. The more she kept her mind occupied the better off she would be.

"Hey guys I'll see you later I have to take a tour of campus."

With that Scarlett departed, although much to her frustration she did not leave her thoughts of Daryl Dixon behind.

* * *

Daryl lay on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling of his dingy bedroom. The sounds of squeaky mattress springs from across the hall tore through the walls as Merle went to town on some whore. Brushing his hair out of his face he found his thoughts once again violated by what he had seen that morning.

He had never been with a women before and it never bothered him up until that point. Not because he was ashamed, but because he wondered what it would be like to feel a soft body so close to his own. Skin on skin, lips clashing.

Sex was animalistic. The way two people growled and screamed aloud, rubbing up against each other and grasping at flesh. Without thinking, his calloused hand drifted into his underwear and he grazed his member. He didn't touch himself often, but the simple thought of imagining how it felt to be inside a woman dominated his mind. The way Scarlett's body looked, he wondered how her breasts would feel in his hands. Merle's conquest continued to scream loudly and obnoxiously, and Daryl wondered if Scarlett would too.

Did she fuck Everheart like that? Did he make her scream when they were together? More importantly, what did it feel like inside of her? Unless she opened her mouth she had the ability to be sexy as hell, the way her large tits sat atop that small waist. And more than anything she was fit from hunting and hiking.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Merle entered, clad in nothing but his skin. Sitting up quickly Daryl removed his hand from his pants and looked away so he would not be graced with his brother's junk.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked and Merle chuckled. Daryl had been so busy thinking he hadn't even noticed the absence of noise from down the hall.

"Well look at you, hand down your pants. Should've come on over. You know I didn't finish Barb off yet. You want a run at her?"

Angrily Daryl stood up, not wanting to hear anything his brother had to say. He was pissed that he had both been caught in the act, and that he had initiated the act in the first place. Sex was for the weak, people who couldn't control their baser instincts and acted more like animals than human beings. He wasn't weak, he was not slave to his body.

"You know little bro I think we really need to get you a nice girl to come on in here and play with you. What about that one that came by with that sweet ass? What was her name? Scarlett?"

Immediately Daryl tensed, clenching his jaw. Without a word he crossed the dingy bedroom he had grown up in and grabbed his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder. A little hunting would take his mind off of everything.

"Man I tell you what I'd like to do to that tight little body of hers: just bend her over and ram her real good. I bet she likes it rough you can tell by the way she walks around just begging to be fucked. You know I reckon she'd let us both go to town on her at once if you get my drift."

Unable to listen to his brother and longer Daryl pushed past him, storming down the creaky hallway. Behind him Merle's voice continued to echo obscenities after him and before he knew it he was out of the house and stealthily navigating through the foothills of the mountains.

Listening to the dead leaves crunch softly beneath his boots, Daryl found himself reminiscing about his sad childhood, remembering the crush he once had on a girl from school named Madison. She was a petite blonde girl with rosy cheeks, whose father was currently Daryl's employer. It was the first and last time Daryl had romantically set eyes on any girl.

She wasn't just like any girl though. At eight years old she played just like the boys, getting dirt all over her plaid dress and messing up her pigtails. She was rough, not like the other girls who spent their time in the corner simply staring as the boys played. More than anything, she gave Daryl a chance. The other girls (well most of the kids in general) ran the minute they saw him coming, but he could recall clearly one day when she approached him with a sandwich made by her mother and presented it to him.

"_Why are you giving me this?" Daryl asked incredulously, taken aback by her kindness. Even the very few children he considered his friends would never do such a thing._

"_I don't like peanut butter and jelly. My mom knows I only like ham. You can have it, you never have sandwiches."_

Indeed he didn't. His mother was always too busy passed out drunk or sleeping, then again what else would she be doing after his father beat the shit out of her mercilessly? Once she couldn't walk for three days he had banged her up so bad, but his sympathy stopped short. After all, being beaten didn't exactly qualify you to stop taking care of your children did it?

He could recall the way his heart started beating quickly in his chest every time she ran past, her blonde hair bouncing. He hadn't thought about her in a while, and wondered what she was up to these days. He remembered her father mentioning something about her marrying two years ago. As independent as she was when they were kids it seemed she fell into the trap of marriage anyway.

Everyone fell trap to society in some way. Marriage, work, children. But Daryl knew he didn't stand a chance, not at becoming a slave of the "normal" American vision. He would never have children with a wife in a grand house in the suburbs, and he didn't want to. He was fine with his life as it was and wouldn't have changed it for anything else.

* * *

"I'm so glad you're coming out with us, this is going to be so much fun. Don't worry, we're going to show you a great time!" Jenny squealed excitedly, and Scarlett grinned. It had been so long since she'd been to a club, and she hated to admit it but she was kind of looking forward to cutting loose for once and having some fun. She almost didn't want to leave.

As expected, Scarlett had fallen in love with the campus. She had fallen in love once more with the fast pace of the city, and even more so she had made great friends. Initially she found her roommates to be quite annoying but after two days she was more than happy to spend every spare moment of her time with them. They were fun! Was this what normal college co-eds felt like? She hadn't known a good time in so long that the feeling was quite foreign to her.

"I'm glad I could fit this dress. I'm really excited it's been awhile." Scarlett said honestly, tugging at the bottom of the extremely-short gold sequin dress Jenny had let her borrow. To say it "fit" was a bit of a stretch, literally, but it was the only thing either girl had that didn't make Scarlett look like she was walking the streets. Jenny was short and Natalie was extremely thin. With Scarlett's body she knew she wouldn't be borrowing clothes from either too often.

"Oh honey you can borrow absolutely whatever you want. You know, Nat and I are renting next semester with a few other people. You should totally stay with us, it would be awesome."

"I'd have to think about it a little but that sounds pretty cool. We'll definitely see." Scarlett smiled, still surprised how friendly the two girls were. Already they were asking her to move in with them after only knowing each other for a grand total of two days?

"Okay, you ready to go?"

Scarlett nodded, and after a few more moments of running around the girls finally left the room. Piling into Jenny's small car they drove downtown, singing loudly to songs Scarlett didn't know and had no shame admitting. After battling the city traffic and finally making their way to a club which seemed to be overflowing with people the three met up with a group of guys and began their night out.

"Come with me!" Natalie exclaimed after an hour of dancing. A sweaty mess, Scarlett grabbed her hand and allowed Natalie to drag her through pumping and pulsating bodies as they made their way to the bathroom. Barging through the door Natalie pulled a small case out of her clutch then tossed it onto the counter in front of the mirror.

Tossing her hair out of her face Scarlett bent down and ran cold water in the sink before splashing a little in her face to cool down. She was thankful she was wearing no makeup, knowing that she would have streaks going down her face had she done so. Glancing over she watched as Natalie unzipped the case to reveal a small baggie of white powder.

"You want some?" she asked, turning to face Scarlett. She grabbed a paper towel and dried her face then looked back over at Natalie. She had to leave early in the morning to make it back to Michael's place, and the fact was she never did well with coke. The first time she used it she threw up and went on a bad trip which scared her off the drug forever.

"Um I don't think so. I've got to cut out early in the morning and I don't really want to get fucked up." She shrugged.

"Okay. Hope you're sure because I promised David some even though he owes me. "

Scarlett remained quiet, watching as Natalie produced a razor and cut the powder into fine lines. Leaning down, she pressed one of her nostrils before inhaling the powder.

"You got anything else?" Scarlett asked. Hell, she was here to have fun wasn't she? What was a night out without a little imbibing? Especially after months of doing nothing.

Natalie glanced at Scarlett then smiled slyly, as though she had some sort of secret. Tossing the case back into her purse she procured a cigarette case which surprised Scarlett who had been self-conscious about smoking, unsure what their reaction would be. Opening it, she revealed several cigarettes and a few small colored tablets which slid around the case freely.

"Would you like to meet Molly?" Natalie wriggled her eyebrows and Scarlett grinned, grabbing one of the pills before hesitating, remembering an incident back in high school when she went out with a group of friends and one ended up in the hospital.

"Where'd you get this?" she asked.

"Miami. Don't worry I know the guy who made it, it's pure." Natalie assured her before snapping the case closed and slipping it back inside her purse. Scarlett stared at the little pill before tossing it into her mouth and swallowing, taking a deep breath. Let the party begin.

* * *

Daryl walked into the kitchen, staring at the shabby room which only held some semblance of the kitchen he knew growing up before the fire. Glancing around he opened the dinky yellow fridge which was broken more often than not with some strange hope there would be something there.

There never was.

Slamming it shut he sighed, his stomach growling. He was hungry and the sun had set long ago. All the birds would be up in their nests, squirrels hidden way in trees and food out of sight until morning. The only place around was Harry's and he sure as hell wasn't going there. He had gone without food for days before. He could go a few hours now.

Glancing into the living room Daryl looked on as Merle snored on the couch, an empty beer can on the stained carpet beside his limp hand. Walking over he gazed down at the brother he both hated and loved, the picked the can up off the floor and rolled Merle over on his side in case he got sick during the night.

Across the room, the ancient television blared and Daryl crossed over, meaning to turn it off before stopping in his footsteps as he glanced down at the screen.

He rarely watched television. As a child, he enjoyed his fill of silly cartoons but after realizing all that was in the outside world Daryl spent more time climbing trees and hunting down food than he did playing video games. Besides, with his mother always passed out on the couch, his father drunk, and his brother either in jail or arguing with their dad, he tried to avoid the house as much as possible.

Rarely did anything on the box capture his attention, but as Daryl moved to turn the thing off he could not help but lean in closely and listen to what was before him.

"…_Witnesses say the man simply attacked the 42-year-old Gunmar, grabbing his arm and ripping it from its socket then eating his flesh. The attack was unprovoked, and authorities were forced to fire several times before Ray Winston was finally killed. I have here Amelia Lysa who witnessed the attack, tell me Amelia did Frank Gunmar do anything to provoke Winston?"_

The camera panned to a middle-aged woman of about 50 or so, with short grey hair and wrinkled skin. Holding bony hand to her chest and adjusted her glasses. Behind her a crowd milled about, occasionally parting to reveal yellow police tape. The headline read: **CANNIBALISM IN CONNECTICUT? Man attacked in the street.**

"_Well I saw the guy just coming out of the bar then this man kind of staggers across the street like he was drunk or something. At first I thought he might rob him but then he grabbed his arm and kept pulling. I think everyone was just too stunned by what was happening to react. Then he started…eating and people were wondering what was going on. A guy tried to yank him off and he bit him and hurt a few others. Not a doubt in my mind he was crazed."_

Indeed, the world was going to hell. Turning off the television Daryl padded up the stairs to his bedroom and fell down in his bed, shedding his clothes and pulling a thin blanket over himself. As he did so he stared up at the ceiling as he did so many nights, imagining the night stars up above him.

His mind flitted back to what he had just seen on the news. Situations like crazed lunatics did not warrant national news attention, in his opinion. Especially given the distance between Connecticut and the rest of the states, but it was nevertheless interesting. The way humanity showcased its darkest depths always reminded Daryl of how much he longed to shy away from it and remain one with nature.

Rolling over he clutched a pillow and closed his eyes, attempting to fall asleep. Something felt wrong, he couldn't quite describe it. It was almost as though there was a heavy storm lingering on the air, some massive force that was going to come in and release complete and utter destruction. Silently, Daryl wondered if someone close to him (as if there was anyone) was going to die.

After rolling over repeatedly for thirty minutes Daryl finally threw back the sheets and got dressed, getting out of bed and grabbing his crossbow. Some fresh air would do him some good. Quickly, he grabbed a worn leather jacket and pulled it on before departing from the house.

The past two days he had been absorbed with work. A restoration had come in, with some jackass too lazy to do it himself. He had no time to hunt or even spend some time out in the wilderness. As Daryl walked out into the darkness, blades of grass bending beneath his feet he wondered if there was any chance of him running into Scarlett tonight. She had a nasty habit of showing up where she wasn't wanted.

Each time she crossed his thoughts he got angry for even giving her the time of day. She was nothing, of no importance, so why was he even letting her weave her way into his mind?

It had surprised him, not seeing her around at all the past two days. It was like she had disappeared. Even when he saw Everheart driving through the foothills he was alone in the front seat of his car, no hint of his bird-brained bimbo in sight.

Glancing up at the sky Daryl hiked through the familiar wood which he could now navigate with his eyes shut. As he stalked through the cool trees he found another tree he sometimes frequented. Scaling it with ease he settled against a branch, nestled between the tree's massive trunk and the thick branch he set his head back as he had so many times when he had been out at night, too tired or fearful to return home.

And closing his eyes, Daryl feel asleep faster than he thought possible, giving no thought to what would await him.

* * *

**_Happy New Year! XX!_**


	5. The Damned

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**The Walking Dead**_**. Trying to get as many updates as possible before I return to school now that the action has started. Hope you enjoy, and looking forward to a year of reviews and fun with you all!**

**The Damned**

Scarlett was barely aware of the fact that she was snuggled up against another body until she rolled over and fell from the bed, her entire body, mind, and being feeling as though she had just been beaten repeatedly with baseball bats.

"Shit!" she muttered, sitting up on her knees and trying to open her eyes as she was blinded by the light of a setting sun outside the window.

_Sunset_? She thought, before everything rushed back to her with the reminder that she was supposed to have been home hours ago.

Swearing, Scarlett stumbled across the room making a resolution to never partake in any kind of drug again. She could barely remember what happened last night although what she did remember had been quite a good time. The combination of alcohol, ecstasy, and whatever else she had done all but knocked her mind onto some other planet, leaving her in a blurry state of euphoria which lasted into the early morning. It ended when she fell down on the mattress in the girls' room, accompanied by a few of the guys they had met up with.

Looking around, Scarlett tried to locate her purse with half-closed eyes. Reaching up, she pushed her unruly hair out of her face, made aware of the pounding in her head and tried to stop the room from spinning. She wanted to simply put a bullet through her head and skip the comedown and hangover that now plagued her without mercy for the poor decisions she had made.

Falling to the ground Scarlett attempted to make use of the last rays of sunlight, crawling around to find her purse and finally locating it under the bed beneath a pair of jeans. She didn't want to look up to see who was pants-less, and pulled the purse from beneath the bed and opened it to find her phone.

Checking her screen she was immediately surprised to find she had only one missed phone call from Michael. She was supposed to have gone back that morning, and it was now almost eight. Pressing her phone to her ear she rested her head against the carpet as she listened to the message.

"…_Hey babe, just me calling to see where you are. You must have had some fun last night, glad you finally got out. Just give me a call whenever. And check out the news. There's some really weird shit going on today and they said something about Atlanta. Alright, bye."_

The phone clicked and Scarlett squinted down, glancing at the time. 11:30.

He had left that message hours ago, and not another. It just didn't feel right. If he was angry with her he sure as hell would've said something. Scarlett wondered if he perhaps had a busy day at work, because it was very strange that she had not spoken with her boyfriend and he had not called her again all day.

_He has a life in case you forgot._ She thought bitterly, reassuring herself that nothing was wrong. Still, it was a bit odd. She would have thought he'd call a little bit later or even texted her perhaps but he had not. Nothing. Not a word.

Getting on her knees she attempted to stand up, whirling immediately as the room spun violently. Tumbling backwards she fell onto the bed, collapsing against a limp body that twitched as she fell back, the same body she had awaken against.

Looking over, Scarlett noted it to be some guy Natalie had set her eyes on last night. What was his name? Ben? Rob? Erik? Something simple. He was supposedly the lead singer of a local bluegrass band, with wavy brown hair that fell to his chin. He looked kind of like Julian Casablancas of The Strokes but a bit cuter.

He rested on his stomach, snoring loudly shirtless and in nothing but his boxers. Beside him was Natalie, clad in a large t-shirt and nothing else Scarlett could see as the bottom rode up to reveal her bare ass.

With a groan Scarlett sat back down on the bed, suddenly aware of how cold she was. Looking down she found she was in nothing but her bra and panties, and wondered what exactly had happened the previous night.

Looking around she managed to collapse on top of her duffel bag just as the room immersed itself in complete darkness, barely lit by the lights outside due to the position of the room. She could barely see and felt as though if she took one more step she would melt into the ground.

Moaning slightly, Scarlett sorted through the bag, half-heartedly feeling through clothes for something to put on. After several seconds she gave up and rested her head on the floor, cooling her face. There was no way in hell she could drive back, not in this condition. Picking up her phone she quickly dialed her boyfriend.

"Hey it's me. Listen we got really fucked up last night. Don't worry, everything's fine but I don't think there's any way I can get back tonight. I'm going to crash here another day, don't hate me. Okay bye." She hung up.

_I love you_. She wanted to say but she didn't.

Michael had voiced his opinions on drug usage quite vocally once upon a time, and Scarlett knew he wouldn't be happy. But that was the difference between the two of them. She was a fast-paced city girl willing to do everything at least once, and he was a sensible country boy who sought to spend his life doing good more for others than himself.

It was admirable, but not something she would focus on. After all she was young, admittedly foolish, and wanted to have a good time every now and then. She did her part to help others although it wasn't her main calling in life, and unlike Michael Scarlett had a hard time seeing the goodness in humanity.

Crawling back into the bed and rested on the edge, away from the half-naked bodies and grabbed at a blanket, wrapping it around her body like a cocoon. Clutching it tightly she closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep completely oblivious to the world around her.

* * *

Daryl stood up, wiping his hands as a police cruiser approached the garage. Bumping and bouncing about the uneven ground, he remained where he stood, brushing the back of his hand across his forehead and removing several beads of sweat that had built up as he stepped from beside the car he had been working on and waited for the police to arrive. There could only be one reason. His brother had done something again, and Daryl was responsible for it.

Much to his surprise, as the car got closer Daryl recognized its driver to be the police chief, Officer Grange. Grange was a good sized man in his late 50s with a greying mustache and a head full of thick steely hair. He was constantly clad in flannel and a pair of jeans to showcase the obnoxiously gaudy belt with the buckle made of real gold.

Stopping, he leaned out the window and beckoned Daryl over, not even bothering to get out. Of course. Daryl was too beneath him to have to actually talk to him face to face. Same with everyone else. The Dixon family meant nothing, when once upon a time they had meant everything.

"Your boss here boy? Or are you here alone?"

Daryl twitched at the word boy but only shook his head as he stood beside Grange's window.

"Well get home, right away. Got some weird stuff going on and we think it's best if people get to their houses. If your brother ain't there already find him and tell him to get his ass home. Lock your doors, and stay there until we tell you otherwise. Some crazy shit is about to go down. In the mountains of all places."

"Shit like what?" Daryl narrowed his eyes, this time out of curiosity instead of anger. This had nothing to do with Merle. Just what the hell was going on?

"Got some reports of some attacks going on, we're not sure what exactly but something's been tearing into people. Found Colm Rogers dead in his living room with his intestines missing, wife walked downstairs and found him there. Not the only case either."

"What, you think there's a bear or something? That's easy enough to take out." Daryl leaned down.

"Not the way these attacks are happening. Like I said, get home, and get safe. I know you might be feeling heroic but let us handle it until we figure out what we're dealing with."

With that, the chief backed out as fast as he came and Daryl narrowed his eyes, walking back to the car he had been working on. Slamming the hood down he closed up the garage then made his way around the mountain back home.

When he arrived he was partly relieved to find Merle's motorcycle sitting in the front. That meant he wouldn't have to go out looking for his brother. It also meant he would have to deal with him. Running up the steps to the porch he opened the front door and stepped inside, only to find himself facing the barrel of a Remington nitro mag tactical that he had acquired from God knew where.

"…The hell?" Daryl murmured, immediately taken aback. Pressed against the door he threw his hands up instinctively, watching as Merle remained in his position for several seconds before lowering the gun slightly.

"Anyone follow you?" he asked.

"What? What the hell are you-"

"-DID ANYONE FOLLOW YOU?!" Merle exclaimed again, this time more demanding. Wondering if he was drunk it took one hard glance to discern that his brother was a sober as day. Something had stirred him so much that he had somehow gotten ahold of a gun and looked about ready to shoot Daryl himself with it.

"No. What the hell is going on?"

"Close the door. Get in here." Merle demanded, yanking him by his arm and into the living room. The room had been tossed about, furniture blocking the windows and Daryl feared that his brother had finally lost his damn mind. He was acting as if someone was coming to get them (although with Merle's behavior, that was always a distinct reality).

"You lost your damn mind? What the hell is this?" Daryl asked irritably, gesturing to the windows and doors.

For a moment Merle simply stared at him coldly, and Daryl knew his older brother was considering giving him a nice beating for questioning his sanity. But the moment Merle turned around and walked away Daryl knew that something serious had happened. Something was going on, and he wondered if it had to do with running into the police chief before he had walked back home.

Grabbing the remote Merle turned on the television and tossed it aside casually, sitting on the couch and crossing one leg over the other. Glancing back at his brother he nodded.

"Why don't you come join me little bro?" he said, his tone suggesting something Daryl would want to see. Walking over, he sat down cautiously and turned his attention to the tiny screen. Sure enough within moments he found himself enraptured in the bizarre report which seemed almost unreal.

"…_Reports flooding in from major cities of attacks and cannibalism leading many to believe we are facing an outbreak of some sort. Right here in New York City we have 84 confirmed deaths from attack and the toll continues to climb. If you look behind me at Times Square you can already see some sort of rioting going on as we're plunged into both violence and uncertainty. The President has issued a State of Emergency, and local officials are urging people to stay indoors…"_

"Cannibalism?" Daryl murmured under his breath and Merle grabbed his gun tightly.

"I was down at Harry's and Mike Everheart came in and cleared everyone out saying there had been some attacks around town. Walked outside and sure enough, old Betty Jones laying in the parking lot with a chunk of her neck and face missing. No one even heard her scream." Merle spoke, his tone almost sorrowful. Betty Jones the old crone. She had Merle had fought more than Daryl cared to remember and he knew that Merle respected her for it. As much as Merle could respect a woman.

"Anyone actually see her get attacked? How do y'all know it wasn't just some animal?" Daryl asked, more to reassure himself. None of this made sense. Shit like this didn't happen. Not in real life. This was the stuff that happened in nightmares.

"No but Gary was talking about how he walked outside and found some guy eating his dog. Pulled its intestines right out in front of him and started gnawing on them like they was fried chicken. Gary tried to chase the guy off with a shotgun but he said he was out of his damn mind. Kept coming at him snarling and growling, had no choice but to shoot the sumbitch down."

"Jesus." Daryl muttered beneath his breath, furrowing his brow.

"Been waitin'. Houses broken into, people bitten. But they sure as hell ain't getting to the House of Dixon. Not without a fight they ain't. We're gonna need to get some things to wait this out."

"Like what?"

"Food. Liquor. More guns. Maybe a chick or two. Lord knows how long until this shit storm is over. Best to be prepared."

"Well where would we find that kind of stuff? You break in anyone's house and they'll shoot you down in a minute."

"Yeah but there's one place in town you get just about anything. Harry's. Everheart's got a shit ton of guns in there in the back. And food, liquor, you name it. Run out there, hunker down here, and wait until this is all over. Afterwards we can even stop by some houses and see who survived. Dead people ain't got no need for things you know."

Instead of arguing about the looting Daryl sat down and pondered. It was true, they would need some provisions. They didn't have much, and while he had his crossbow his brother had never been quite as savvy in the wilderness. Guns would be necessary.

He was gearing down, getting ready, still unsure of what was going on. One thing, Daryl knew even though he wouldn't say it aloud. Perhaps it really was the end.

* * *

Scarlett drove through the late afternoon sun, pulling up in front of Harry's with her bag in the passenger seat beside her. When she had left Atlanta there was some sort of rioting going on. She did not know the full story, but she knew there had been a few deaths and that it was best to get out as soon as she could.

Rioting. It was something that was always heard of at political protests and soccer games. Not American cities. But, the human capacity for violence could be found just about anywhere, including the American south. She was lucky she had left when she did.

After beckoning goodbye to her new friends Scarlett packed up her things and headed back to the mountains, looking forward to returning in a few weeks. While she had made some less than stellar decisions during her time at the university but she was excited to go back and pick up where she left off. This time she would be enjoying herself in college instead of dredging through knowing she would end up doing something she did not like for the sake of her parents.

She had spent the previous night with the girls after their wild night of partying. The only thing that concerned her was that Michael had still not called her back. It was strange, and more than anything it worried the hell out of her. She knew no one else there, no one that would give her a ring if something had happened. He could have been dead in the morgue and she wouldn't know.

She knew Harry's was the first place she'd find him. As the tires of his trunk crunched over the gravel Scarlett furrowed her brow. The parking lot was entirely empty. It was _never _empty. There was always someone there, except the hours that the place was closed.

Perhaps he had decided to close. Maybe to work on something, that happened once in a while. Getting out of the car she slammed the door and strode towards the bar. Rushing up the porch she opened the front door which was unlocked, meaning that indeed Michael had to be there and working on something. Maybe a roast for the customers that night, some sort of surprise.

"Hey babe you here?!" Scarlett exclaimed as she closed the door behind her, stepping into the dark bar and grille. The place was almost shining, like it had just been cleaned. With a sigh, she set her keys down on a nearby table and made her way to the kitchen where she expected to find her boyfriend.

She smelled nothing though, and alarms of curiosity and suspicion went up. Something was very wrong. The doors were unlocked, but Michael wasn't here doing anything in particular. She wondered if perhaps someone had broken in. Perhaps her good friends the Dixons.

"Is anybody here?" she called out again, this time more tentatively. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, goosebumps sprinkling her arms. Something felt wrong, very wrong, and she did not have a weapon with her. She had a Beretta in the car, safely tucked away in the glove compartment but nothing on her now. If there was a robber here she would have to rely solely on her fists and feet.

Suddenly, a sound caught her attention. Spinning around, Scarlett peered into the darkness, watching as a figure emerged slowly. Stepping back slightly she prepared herself, putting up her fists and nodded her head.

"Who are you?" she asked, her veins turning to ice and her gut turning cold. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She was not fearful, for her body sunk into a one track mind. Confront whoever was there, and eliminate them if need be.

Fear and panic were what got people killed. Scarlett's grandfather told her that the only way to get out of a situation was to stay cool, calm, and collected. Fear could be experienced after, but at the present she must focus on what she needed to do to survive and how to get out of it without getting killed. He had taught her many wise things which she had heeded throughout her life, and which had helped her out in the wild when hunting or camping.

Instead of responding, Scarlett watched as the approaching figure limped out of the darkness and into the dim lighting of the dining area. Immediately she recognized him as the grill cook Arnie, although immediately she could see something was wrong. He was bleeding terribly, red splotches caked on his neck and trickles running down his head. Glancing down at his foot she saw that it was twisted over, evidently broken.

"Christ what the hell happened to you?" she asked, staying where she was as he limped towards her, groaning and gurgling under his breath like a dead man. When she looked into his eyes, she was taken aback. They stared off into nowhere, bloodshot and yellow as if he was diseased. Taking another step back she held her ground firmly but called out to where he was.

"Arnie stay where you are, don't come any closer." Scarlett demanded, judging what must be done by his response. If he did as told then she would call for help. If not, then something was very wrong and she needed to quickly formulate a plan.

Obviously he couldn't come after her with his broken foot, but being in his proximity was enough of a threat. Whatever was wrong, if he had some sort of aggressive disease it could have been in the air surrounding him. He certainly stunk, almost like rotting flesh which simply wasn't possible because he was standing here before her, living and breathing.

His face was soulless, as if he was just an empty shell with nothing inside. It was horrifying, and as he opened his mouth and breathed heavily Scarlett got up on a table, standing tall before grabbing a chair and brandishing it about her head.

"Arnie I said to stand back. If you don't I'll have to knock you out." She warned, not once ounce of hesitation within her. When he continued to stagger forward Scarlett hurled the chair over her head, hitting him across the head so that the chair broke.

Grasping a leg in her hand he stared in bewilderment as he simply reeled back then continued to limp towards her. It was as if she had simply thrown a napkin at him. Leaping to the next table she watched as Arnie changed his direction. Lingering for a moment she waited to see what he would do, and he lunged forward snapping his teeth at her leg.

Scarlett stepped back too far, falling backward and onto the floor below. She tried to catch her fall, the chair leg flying out of her hand as she hit the ground hard, the wind knocked clean out of her. Closing her eyes she tried to check out for a moment, reliving herself of the pain and shock of the fall. It was only when she felt fingers raking down her leg that she realized there was no time for that.

Lifting her foot, she brought it down against Arnie's head roughly, kicking him back then crawled from where she was, running across the dining area and seeking refuge behind the bar. He followed, gnashing and gnawing his teeth hungrily and Scarlett tried to comprehend the reality of the situation, heart pounding rapidly in her chest.

Reaching under the bar she grabbed a rifle, one of many housed in Harry's. Growing up Michael's mother had not allowed guns in the house due to an accident in her family, and Michael had his father had been forced to keep the guns at their second home where they now remained. There was many back in his office, along with two beneath the bar in case anyone tried to rob the place or started trouble.

Pointing it at Arnie Scarlett tried to catch her breath, staring as Arnie continued to come near her. With a finger on the trigger she aimed for his kneecap. She needed to weaken, not kill. Whatever was wrong maybe if she subdued him she could get him to the hospital.

Just when she was about to shoot the door to the kitchen swung open and Scarlett spun around to find none other than Michael rushing towards her, arms outstretched and face composed in a snarl. Well, what was left of his face.

* * *

Daryl climbed out of the truck, glancing over as Merle pointed out none other than Mike Everheart's pickup parked outside Harry's. He would have no problem taking out the son of a bitch, in fact, he quite looked forward to it.

The two brothers walked up the back porch to Harry's to find the screen door open, sounds tearing outside.

There was screaming, a female voice and the sound of evident crashing. Someone was struggling. Moving in first Daryl held up his crossbow and lead the way into the dark building, eyes immediately directed towards the bar.

Against the wall Scarlett was wrestling with none other than Everheart himself as he clawed at her with his hands. She grunted, kicking him backward and throwing liquor bottles while someone else he did not recognized stood on the other side, trying to get up although their foot was twisted and broken at a sickening angle.

Daryl did not think. He acted.

Lifting his crossbow to eyelevel he pointed it at the back of Everheart's head and released an arrow sending it right for Everheart's back. The minute the arrow plunged itself into his flannel shirt the bearded man turned around and Daryl blanched, taking a step back. Beside him his brother swore aloud as he looked at his face, or what used to be his face.

The entire right side of his face was missing, the skin of his chin flapping off to reveal bone underneath. His teeth were clearly visible through the hole in his cheek, as if someone had bit into his skin and ripped it right off his face. What was more was the way the arrow seemed to do nothing.

Scarlett remained behind the bar, standing in what appeared to be shock as she stared at what used to be her boyfriend, and what used to be Daryl Dixon's enemy. Now, he was just some decomposing sack of a man without a soul. Now, Daryl didn't know what he was, all he knew was that nothing seemed real, nothing made a damn bit of sense. This couldn't be real, but as real as the day was Everheart walked towards him, arrow sticking out of his back like nothing had happened.

"Son of a bitch." Merle said, raising his gun and firing a single shot the caught Mike in the neck.

Blood gushed and spurted from the wound, but again, Everheart did not falter. He continued towards them, and Merle opened fire, shooting all over his body. Bullets exploded through his chest, legs, thighs, and while his body bent he still did not fall down dead. It was as if the bullets were nothing.

He had no time to register the sound of a gunshot as Everheart's skull exploded before him, blood spattering his shirt and skin. Brain matter, blood, and skull fragments parted before his very eyes with a sickening squish, and Daryl looked past to see Scarlett standing with a handgun in her hand, eyes burning furiously.

_She just shot her own boyfriend in the head_. Daryl thought. Had the bullet escaped Mike's brain it would have found itself in Daryl's own and he wondered if the bitch had been trying to kill him as well.

He didn't have much time to think it over though for Merle fired beside him at a fat man who turned out to be Arnie Black. Taking Scarlett's cue he shot Arnie in the head and he crumpled onto the ground in a pathetic heap, blood pulsating from the wound and spreading across the shiny wood floors.

"There's a reason you guys are here. What is it?" Scarlett asked, voice cold as ice and Daryl wasn't sure if he had a newfound respect or concern for her. Her tone was hollow, as though nothing had just happened but when he studied her face he could see the reddening of her eyes. She was close to tears, but holding it back to save face.

"Easy there darling ain't nothing wrong with us. Just looking for some guns for…obvious reasons." Merle replied sweetly, raising his hands. Daryl glanced over at Scarlett who lingered for a moment before lowering her gun and nodding her head.

Too trusting. Merle could have shot her the instant she lowered her gun and claimed the rest for himself but he didn't, and lucky that because if he had Daryl was unsure of just what exactly he would find himself doing. Clutching his crossbow tightly he felt the overwhelming need to protect the girl from none other than his brother, and he couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because he knew she now had no one. Her only protector was dead on the floor, and Daryl certainly knew that feeling.

Merle took the first steps, moving past the two corpses on the floor and Daryl followed, glancing down at Mike Everheart one last time, feeling the smallest bit of sympathy. He hated the guys very existence, but did he deserve to have his brains blown out after trying to eat his girlfriend?

As they passed Scarlett she quickly stepped behind both of them, clutching her gun tightly and Daryl could see she was on her guard, and hoped she wouldn't end up tricking both of them.

"Keep going through the kitchen. That door right there, that's….the office." She said softly, not saying his name. Daryl almost felt for her.

They followed her directions, stopping in front of the door. The knob was covered in blood and Scarlett pushed past, kicking the door open then stepping back and waiting. When nothing came out she flipped on the switch and walked inside, heading to a double door locker in the back of the ridiculous office which was fitted with many stuffed animal heads.

Immediately she got behind the Dixons, and Daryl could feel her eyes on him wearily, ready to strike at any second. Not that he was worried, he knew that he and his brother could take her easily enough. The fact was he didn't want to have to. He hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid.

"That green locker right there, open it, it's unlocked." She said. Merle glanced back at her.

"What you holding that gun so tight for baby? We ain't gonna hurt you." He grinned, and Daryl grimaced. His brother's reassurance was worse than a threat, and sure enough he noticed Scarlett tighten her grip on the weapon.

"Can't be too careful. There's 12 guns in there. I'll let you have four automatics. That should be more than enough to hold you. You'll have to get ammo elsewhere, he didn't keep it here." She commanded, and Daryl knew his brother resented being told what to do. Sure enough, he glanced at Scarlett then walked forward and opened the locker. Shoving his gun into Daryl's hands he bent down, picking through the firearms.

A sudden crash turned all their heads. The three of them froze, and Scarlett left first, leaving them alone foolishly. Giving one look at his brother and knowing it was a mistake Daryl followed after her, walking into the dining room to find that there were more of those _things _coming in through the open door.

They were in various states of injury and decomposition. People that Daryl had never seen before in his life, which was all the stranger because their community was about 40 or so. They were like animals, drawn to either the sound or the scent of blood. They strode towards the door, breathing loudly and groaning as if they were on their deathbeds. There were four, and Daryl could see more in the distance. He still had an arrow in Everheart's back.

"Shit there's more coming. This is an isolated place I don't understand." Scarlett thought out loud and Daryl silently agreed with her. Their community was not even on the map, it was simply a scattering of people across the foothills of the mountains. That these things were already migrating from the cities didn't make much sense, but there was not time to ponder the details of it all as they came closer.

Slamming the door Scarlett spun around and Daryl studied her face. Cold, calculating, and tense. There wasn't a hint of fear or panic in her eyes, there was no emotion whatsoever. Pushing past him she rushed to the bar then started pulling bottles of liquor down from the shelves just as Merle came out with several guns in hand.

Scarlett took to throwing the bottles towards the entrance, glass shattering and alcohol spilling out onto the floor just as the banging on the front door began. It was a matter of seconds before they broke through, but Daryl did not see how they would escape back to either vehicle unnoticed.

Just then, the door flew open and Daryl found himself staring into the dead eyes of none other than his boss. He stood there, simply staring at him as the middle-aged man staggered towards him, mouth bared. A chunk of his scalp was missing and his stomach had been ripped open so that his intestines hung out sickeningly. As his organs trailed down his middle Daryl took his crossbow and launched an arrow directly for his head, putting an end to the man's misery. He didn't even want to think about the pain, he didn't want to think about what state he had been in when that happened. All Daryl knew was that watching him made him sick to his stomach. No one should have to go through that.

"GET BACK!" Scarlett yelled and he glanced at her as she came running over with a lit match in hand. Feeling his heart pound Daryl rushed to the back of the bar, hoping she hadn't been too dumb to block out their only way. The moment she dropped the flame fire erupted, swallowing the emerging bodies whole and spreading rapidly over its feeding ground.

Yet even in fire, the corpses still walked as though untouched. It was already too late though, as they staggered and spread fire wherever they went.

"There's a door in the back." Scarlett said, before running back behind the bar. That's when it all went wrong.

Daryl watched in slow motion as the fire seared across the dining room and swallowed a series of electrical outlets. A giant fireball sprung, sending them all flying backwards from the force of the blast and suddenly the entire room became hot as fire leapt and sprung onto the walls and ceilings.

"C'mon!" Merle screamed, grabbing him by his arm and lifting him up. With an ominous creak, the neon Budweiser sign hanging above the doorway suddenly gave way, plummeting straight down and connected with Scarlett's curly head. Immediately, she crumpled onto the ground and Daryl lunged forward before he even knew what he was doing and picked her up, cradling her in his arms.

"Leave here, we ain't got time for that!" Merle exclaimed but Daryl clutched Scarlett tightly, stepping through the doorway as both the fire and the dead grew closer. Glancing down he noticed the trickle of blood that spilt down her head and onto her neck and wondered if she might be dead. He had not checked her pulse but a heavy blow to the head like that had to have been deadly.

He couldn't say exactly why he had saved her, although there were a multiple of plausible explanations. For one, she had access to food and weapons back at Everheart's home. For another, Everheart himself. Daryl somehow felt obliged for her life even after a life-long feud with the latter. There was also the simple explanation that Daryl wouldn't be able to live with the knowledge that he had just left her on the floor to die and possibly become like one of those things.

So, despite his brother's protests he carried her through the burning bar, out to the car as they dodged the creatures that he could only deem as The Damned, and got into Everheart's truck given the opportunity. And all the way Daryl held the girl he was certain he hated in his arms and couldn't help but feel she was going to be becoming a very prominent part of his life in the up and coming days.


	6. What to Do When the World Ends

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**TWD**_**. Been back in school, very busy, barely any time for writing. I'm currently writing this on my train ride home, I have Spring Break so I'm hoping to get a few updates. **

**What to Do When the World Ends?**

Scarlett opened her eyes slowly, grunting as something heavy and itchy brushed the flesh of her arm. Moaning, she rolled on her side and inhaled deeply, reaching out and touching the empty bed in search of her boyfriend.

"Michael?" she breathed with her eyes closed. Hearing no response, she decided in her grogginess that he had likely gone in to work, and drove herself further into the mattress which felt strangely different. Clutching at the sheets tightly Scarlett inhaled, intent on dragging in her scent only find her nostrils filled with a very strange smell.

It was a mixture of soap, earth, sweat, and something else she could not put her finger on. Wrinkling her nose in confusion Scarlett shot up and opened her eyes, suddenly coming to the realization that she was not in Michael's bed, but in a place completely foreign to her.

Glancing around she found herself surrounded by complete darkness, and became aware of the strong itching sensation on her arm. Reaching down instinctively to scratch she found the flesh bandaged the swung her legs over the bed in a state of panic as she tried to make sense of her surroundings in the pitch black.

She had not taken one step when her foot landed on something soft, something soft that screamed out in protest causing her jump back in a mixture of confusion and fear.

"What the hell?!" Scarlett screamed aloud, her body jolted in fear as she looked down to find a crumpled mass, rising to its knees. Taking a miscalculated step back she hit the bed and fell backward, staring up at the dark ceiling in a state of confusion as the body beneath her grunted and rose to standing height.

"Watch where you're going." Growled a deep voice and Scarlett narrowed her eyes in the darkness, recognizing it as Daryl Dixon's. Sitting up, she swallowed, her throat completely dry and glanced down at her bandaged arm, eyes slowly forming shadows in the darkness.

Glancing up she suddenly found her mind bombarded with the memories of what had happened prior to her winding up wherever she was. The fire, looking up just as the neon sign swung dangerously towards her head. And more importantly, the death of Michael, or rather the man that _used _to be Michael.

"Where am I?" Scarlett rasped, wishing she had something to drink, _anything_.

Dixon said nothing, and she sought him out in the darkness as she watched his shadow travel across the room. He crept to a corner then pushed against something large to reveal a window. Peering out Scarlett could see the night stars twinkling out in the sky, and before she could further appreciate the beauty of the moon and the cloudless night he shifted the large mass over it once more.

"I need water." Scarlett suddenly said, abandoning her question, then glanced down and raised her arm. "What's this?"

"You got burned. Come on, I'll get you some water." He said, emotionless. Standing up, Scarlett teetered on her feet for a moment suddenly dizzy and swayed slightly, reaching out for support and falling into what she assumed were Dixon's arms.

The moment he clutched her Scarlett immediately sank into his body involuntarily. She inhaled his scent, her body acting on its own accord in the presence of a man who not only infuriated her but somehow appealed to her, and was right now protecting her.

His body tensed noticeably and Scarlett lingered for a moment in a state of hazy confusion before letting go and steadying herself in the darkness. Beside her, Daryl Dixon cleared his throat awkwardly then stepped away, robbing her of both warmth and comfort.

"I can barely see." Scarlett mumbled. Even with perfect vision and incredible instincts and reflexes due to being in the woods, she could barely see her hand in front of her, let alone navigate a place she did not know. She heard Daryl sigh and almost jumped out of her skin as he touched her.

"In front of me." He grunted, and the two shuffled awkwardly until she could feel his presence behind her. His hand reached out, touching her elbow so delicately that she did not think it possible then he pushed her forward slightly, guiding her through the dark.

"Turn." He spoke in a soft rasp that Scarlett assumed was the most comforting tone he could offer. She did as told, feeling wooden panels beneath her feet until he pulled her back then stepped in front of her.

"There's a staircase here." He said, and Scarlett reached out, grasping at his wrist.

The moment her hand clasped around his pale skin both froze, Dixon tensing even stronger than he had before. His discomfort was beyond evident, and Scarlett wondered if it was because she was herself or because she was a woman period. She stood her ground, clutching onto him tightly even as he attempted to yank his arm free from her grip before giving up and settling on the fact that she was touching him.

They took the steps slowly, and Scarlett grasped at the wall with her free hand never having felt so completely helpless. She said nothing, and Daryl Dixon said even less as they reached the bottom of the steps. Immediately the dim lighting of candles and lanterns bombarded her vision and she looked around at what appeared to be some sort of living room.

Dingy furniture decorated the room, the windows boarded and barricaded. Gazing around Scarlett took it all in through wide eyes, wondering once more where the hell she was.

"Thought you needed water." Dixon spoke and she turned her head to look at him before nodding. He spun on his heel and walked into another room and she followed him, memorizing every detail of her strange surroundings. The scents, the feels, the sights, until they came into the old kitchen. Going to the sink he filled a glass the handed it to her.

Scarlett glanced at the tap water in the dingy glass for a moment before taking a sip. All of her reservations were forgotten as a sip turned into a gulp and she remembered just how thirsty she was.

Feeling the cool liquid coat her dry walls she sighed, wiping her mouth the handed the glass to Daryl and cleared her throat, feeling a bit more conscious now.

"Thank you. Now that's over, can you tell me what the hell is going on?" she crossed her arms, looking around.

Daryl turned around, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Scarlett stared right at him for a moment before the sounds of heavy footsteps stirred her attention.

"Well well well, Sleeping Beauty is awake. Nice to see you." Merle Dixon drawled as he entered the kitchen, before lifting his hand and smacking Scarlett's ass unexpectedly and causing her to gasp aloud in a mixture of surprise and anger. Her anger was short-lived, however, for she had bigger and better things to worry about.

Again, her question went unanswered so Scarlett simply remained standing where she was, attempting to use reasoning to figure out her surroundings. Her thoughts were invaded with the memories of what had happened before she had awoken here, and she sharply glanced up between the two brothers who under normal circumstances, she would have gotten as far away from as possible.

"How long have I been out of it?" she asked, chewing on her bottom lip nervously.

"Few hours. Glad you're up though, see Daryl here thought it would be taking advantage of you if I gave you a little poke in your sleep. I don't think you'd mind too much though, would you sweetie? You seem like to enjoy fucking."

Scarlett said nothing, refusing to let her fury and disgust show on her face as she stared at Merle tight-lipped before turning to Daryl who glanced between the two of them, as though waiting to see if she would haul out and slug him.

"Where are we exactly?" Scarlett asked, staring Daryl directly in the eye. He glanced away quickly as though uncomfortable and she took note, waiting for a response.

"You're at the one and only House of Dixon." Merle drawled in conceit and Scarlett furrowed her brow in confusion, uncertain where to move from there.

"What? Why?" she asked, and Merle leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and legs.

"Why don't you sit down. You look a little weak."

Despite her desire to tell him to go fuck himself, Scarlett sighed. In truth, she was feeling a little light-headed and felt that whatever tale might be told, she would handle it better sitting down. After all, he still had yet to come to terms with the fact that she had indeed killed her boyfriend earlier that day. Something had gone horribly wrong, not just with him but with the others. It was like some sort of nightmare she couldn't (and did not want to) understand.

She nodded, and Merle grinned as though well on his way to getting her in bed, something Scarlett ignored and proceeded to follow him.

The home could have been nice, _could have been_. Taking everything in Scarlett followed Merle into the living room, Daryl behind her. The entire room was barricaded, furniture blocking the windows and door. Glancing around Scarlett noted a small television in the corner and squinted her eyes, immediately captured by the vision on the screen.

Bounding across the room without a second thought she moved closer to the screen, unsure whether or not her jaw dropped as she gazed upon the grainy images and tried to take them in, suddenly aware that the entire world around her was falling apart. Reality suddenly became magnificently apparent as she gazed into the window that showcased the outside.

Images flooded the television. The country was in a State of Emergency, cannibalistic attacks and fatalities in all major cities across the States and more. Scarlett could have perhaps dismissed the oddities of the day as hallucination, perhaps side effects from her wild night. But now she knew for certain what had happened had been very real, and that meant two things:

The first? The fact the she had killed her boyfriend. Michael was dead, dead as a doornail and in no way shape or form was he coming back. The second? The reason as to _why_ he was dead, and what it meant.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlett sat down on the dingy couch in desperate need of reupholstering without an invitation, then rested her elbows on her thighs as she tried to make sense of everything. Placing her hands on her cheeks she rubbed her face then took a deep breath, never taking her eyes off the television.

They didn't know what it was, they didn't know why. All they knew was that it seemed to be some sort of disease, and the president was urging he evacuation of major cities where chaos had already broken out. The attacks were vile, different reels playing on a loop suggesting the feed was no longer live.

What did this mean for the rest of their pitiful existence? Already, the country was in shambles within the course of a day. In the secluded foothills of the mountains the attacks has spread. Would that mean that within the next day the area would be teeming with vicious and bloodthirsty cannibals?

And what of everyone and everything she knew? Her parents? Her friends? Even the girls at the university. What about the townspeople? Here she was, trapped with the two people she wanted to see the least, yet thinking from a survivalist standpoint Scarlett knew that without them she would be royally fucked. She was far from home, and by the time she got there who knew if home would even be there.

Clutching at her body tightly Scarlett rocked unknowingly, the panic rising within her before she could give it a second thought. The entire world was caving in, leaving her alone in a dark void. She didn't know what to do, where to go. Nothing made sense in this horrific hour where everything was turned upside-down. The end was nigh. This was real, and she wasn't sure how long it would be before things became normal once more.

_This could all be a dream. You're still in Atlanta, none of this is real. Wake up Scarlett. Wake the _fuck_ up_! She thought violently, smacking herself in the head violently as she forgot where she was.

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly she reeled then opened them again, only to find herself looking at the same television in the same room. She wasn't asleep, no matter how hard her body fought to tell her otherwise.

"I have to go." Scarlett suddenly said, standing up. Spinning around she turned to face the Dixon brothers, Merle in his stained wife-beater watching her like a wolf, and Daryl in the corner as though waiting for her to say that very thing.

"Go where baby?" Merle asked and she made her way toward the barricaded door, blinking away the tears that threatened to flood her eyes and make her look weak.

"I don't know, I just have to go." Scarlett choked, reaching the door. Putting her hands on a pile of wood which once seemed to be an armoire, Scarlett attempted to push the heavy object, straining what strength she had as fatigue washed over her.

Immediately, she swayed dangerously and all the sounds of the room melded together as one as she danced on the fringes of consciousness.

Stepping back, Scarlett stumbled to the couch where she all but collapsed and closed her eyes. She felt arms on her, grabbing her roughly.

"Let go of her!" a voice demanded, and she blinked, attempting to swim through the haze as her body was shaken until she blinked, opening her eyes just enough to see Daryl above her, glaring over at Merle.

"I was just trying to take care of her easy brother." Merle cackled, and Scarlett closed her eyes, listening to them go back and forth. Her throat was dry again, her tongue was fuzzy. Her entire body felt like lead, and she was spinning as though drunk.

"…Touch….advantage…." a voice spoke, and Scarlett tilted her head back, moaning.

* * *

Daryl stared across the living room from where he sat, watching as Scarlett slept on the couch.

She moaned in her sleep, twitching and moving her full lips as though dreaming intensely. As he watched her, he noted the way her curls fell in front of her face and her eyes moved under caramel lids with thick black lashes.

With legs crossed he continued to watch over her protectively. Not only had she taken a good hit to the head earlier, but Daryl was certain if he left her alone Merle would have his way with her. When she had fallen asleep he had all but lunged at the chance to grope her like some sort of animal, grinning as he brushed her tits.

And now, he felt strangely protective of her. Maybe it was the way she had handled shit back at the bar. None of them knew what the hell was going on, but she had kept her calm, and even more she had taken out her own boyfriend. That was certainly something. He could see that she was cracking at the hinges, threatening to explode with a tidal wave of emotion.

Even he himself was completely unsure of how to handle everything in that moment. Absentmindedly, he reached back and scratched the brand of ink on his back, thinking of what he would have down back in the day. No, he was alone now. He no longer rolled with the people he used to, and all he had left was his brother and this girl.

He wasn't sure what they would do. There was no saying what one _could _do when the world ended. They could only hole up here in the home for so long, after all they never kept much food around to begin with. It was only a matter of time before they had to leave and then what? What about Scarlett? As far as Daryl knew she had no one else down here. Where would she go?

For now she needed to recover. She had readily given over guns, and he was willing to let her recuperate. It would have meant more food being taken away from him and Merle, but the girl knew how to handle a gun and hunt, she could be more of an asset than a liability. That would have to be the extent of any additions, however.

Staring over once more, Daryl continued to watch her. Her face was tense, even in her sleep. He could tell she was having some sort of nightmare as she twisted and turned on the couch, and Daryl left her to it. So long as she didn't hurt herself, she might as well deal with it. After all, they were really facing a nightmare out there as well.

Grasping one of his arrows in his hand tightly he began to clean the head vigorously, never taking his eyes off Scarlett. He had no fear of cutting himself, this was something he knew as well as breathing.

The question remained: what was next? They didn't have much food, and going out to hunt didn't seem to be the best of ideas, at least until ravenous creatures stopped prowling.

Where did it come from? And how? It was clear that there was something to do with infection or disease. There were reports of injuries in animals, and all of the people (could he call them people) Daryl had seen showcased bite marks of some sort.

But _where did it come from_? That was the question.

The news reels showed reports from across the country. It was in major cities everywhere, at the least and the live broadcasts were becoming fewer and fewer. It was spreading, and fast it seemed. Over the course of about two days the world had plunged into chaos, chaos which reigned apparent.

As Daryl continued to work on his arrowhead Scarlett began to violently writhe. As he watched, beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and Daryl stood with a sigh, walking over just as she awoke with a start.

Immediately he was taken aback. She lunged forward, fists curled so tightly her knuckles turned white. Opening her eyes she looked around wildly before her eyes settled on Daryl. In that instant she froze and Daryl's heart stopped as he stared right into her giant eyes which were filled with panic and fear.

"Shit." She muttered, putting a hand to her forehead and sitting back on the couch. Her face colored and Daryl remained where he stood, confused and unsure of what to do. It was clear she needed comfort, but he was not about that.

Resting her elbows on her knees Daryl watched as Scarlett let her chin fall in her hands, shaking her curls. He felt the urge to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. And then what? Where would he go from there? He sure as hell wouldn't hug her, tell her everything was going to be alright because it _wasn't_.

"I need some air." She suddenly croaked, voice trembling then looking up at Daryl through bloodshot eyes.

He paused for a moment, unable to say anything. His throat felt funny, and his heart was pounding. The way her eyes stared right into his threw him off guard, all he could do was remain frozen in his tracks. She looked so vulnerable, weak, and utterly beautiful in that moment.

It was strange to him, how he found her attractive in her moment of complete weakness. He wanted to help her. She seemed so human, even as truly formidable as she was.

"What do you mean?" Daryl asked, glancing at the doors. Merle had nearly killed himself trying to block all entrances in and out of the house. Even so, they didn't know if those freaks were outside. It didn't seem like a good idea for the time being to leave the house, not if they didn't have to.

"I want to go outside. I need to be outside." Scarlett shuddered.

"Can't." Daryl shrugged, his face betraying nothing although he felt for her. She was going to have to suck it up, they no longer had the luxury of moving about and going where they wanted.

As he thought about it, Daryl suddenly realized that if he was able to get her to someone she knew, then he would be free of responsibility for her. He didn't mind her presence for the time being, but he didn't know how long they would have to wait this out. Perhaps a week, and then he would be able to get her to someone else.

"You got any family down here?" Daryl suddenly asked, nodding and she looked up through red eyes and sniffed, face red. Without a word she shook her curls then sat back, sighing and crossing her arms over her large chest. The whole damsel in distress thing really worked for her.

"No, I'm from up north. I haven't spoken to my family in months really."

Daryl said nothing, mildly shocked by her sudden admission. They barely knew one another and she had thrown such an intriguing detail at him. Naturally he wanted to question why but did not.

"Friends?" he continued.

"Well, there were some people I just met from Georgia. We don't know each other particularly well. M….Michael was the one who brought me down here. I don't know anyone."

She was completely alone, she had nowhere to go. But why exactly did he even care? It wasn't like her fate had any effect on his life whatsoever. Perhaps he never should have saved her from the fire in the first place, that would have spared him from the whole predicament of not knowing what the hell to do with her.

"Look, I'm grateful. I really am, and I can tell that you need me out of here. I can leave tomorrow, but I need to take the truck." She said with a sigh, staring up at Daryl with a composed face. If it were for the swelling of her eyes he would not have been able to tell that she was close to tears a matter of seconds ago. She was good at concealing her emotion. Not as good as he was per se, but impressive.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow you can leave." Daryl nodded in agreement.

A part of him wanted her to stay.

* * *

Scarlett sat with her knees hugged to her chest, staring into total and complete darkness as her mind raced even faster than her heart.

Across from where she sat hunched, the sound of Daryl's breathing told her that he was asleep, although Scarlett was certain he would awaken to the slightest sound which is why she stayed planted firmly where she was on the couch.

His outline stirred in the darkness as his chest rose and fell, and as Scarlett stared in the darkness she imaged the outlines of his face, his chiseled features ad broad shoulders. She mapped out his face in the darkness, realizing that after only a few days of knowing him, she knew him all too well.

He had saved her life, as much as she hated to admit it and thus proved himself to be a somewhat decent person. As a result, Scarlett no longer held an intense loathing for him but some semblance of respect, although she was quite a ways from actually liking him or even considering him to be an acquaintance.

Still, he had saved her life. Scarlett would like to believe that it was simple human decency, but the fact was people watched each other die nearly every damn day I some way or another. It was this that caused her to give Daryl some credit, for he had no reason to save her. At least not one that she could currently come up with.

She couldn't stop the thoughts from flooding her head. There were so many. Daryl. Merle. Michael. The world. Her family. Her future. Her past. What to do? Where to go? The thoughts cascaded like water through a broken dam that she had no hope of stopping.

She was going to leave within a few hours. But where would she go? She couldn't hunker down at Harry's, that place was long gone. The only solution was Michael's and she had left the keys back at the tavern. She had no other option though. She could certainly pick the locks on the house thought that would leave her alone and without significant supplies for god knew how long.

Scarlett didn't want to be alone. Under normal circumstances she would have embraced the idea but not now when death reigned freely. Now, loneliness meant death, and being with the right people meant living. As much as she hated to admit it, being with the Dixons was her best chance of survival although there was no way in hell she would get on her knees and grovel.

This thought turned her attention to the entire situation as a whole as she wondered what the hell was going on. Thinking back, Scarlett noted that those things only seemed to truly die with a bullet to the head, not even the heart. It was quite curious. More curious than that was the state of decomposition they had been in. They were the living, walking, and breathing dead.

She remembered the eyes. A blood-tinged and diseased-ridden yellow. That had to be what this was: a disease, spread through contact. What kind of contact? She did not know. She noted that each body had some sort of injury inflicted upon it, so perhaps attack by one of the creatures. But where had it come from?

Scarlett was never a conspiracy theorist, but such a disease could not possibly be created and accidentally released. This was biological warfare. Someone had created this ailment and intentionally released it to the public in some way. Who could it be? Al-Qaeda? North Korea? America had many enemies.

She didn't know the international state of the world, all she knew was that her theory made the most sense. America was under attack by her enemies, and they were being wiped out one by one like insects. It was sickening, and it spurred a newfound passion and anger within Scarlett that erased her fear and panic for the moment.

Without thinking Scarlett stood up, taking one step and landing clumsily on an aluminum beer can that exploded in a crackle of sound. Immediately behind her Daryl jumped up from where he slept, clutching his crossbow in the darkness and confirming Scarlett's theory that he was the epitome of a light sleeper.

"What you doing?" Daryl croaked, voice groggy yet still stern. Scarlett wondered if his eyes had already adjusted and glanced back at him carefully.

"I was just…" she trailed off, unsure what to say. What in fact had she been about to do? She couldn't get out anywhere. All she could do was walk around the house and pray she didn't end up coming across Merle, knowing full well she was in no position to fight him off.

"You want to leave now? What time is it?" he barked harshly although Scarlett could tell he didn't mean too.

Reaching into her back pocket she retrieved her cell phone, knowing that she no longer had any real use for it. Looking at the draining battery she checked the time before turning it off and sighing.

"It's five." She replied, silently praying to whatever god there was that he wouldn't throw her out right now. She wasn't ready (and she wasn't certain she ever really would be).

"I'll get Merle to move the stuff. Make sure you make as little noise as possible getting out of here." He mumbled in the dark.

"But wait…I…I-" she stuttered, cut off by a continuing Daryl.

"You can take the truck. Make sure if there's any of those things around you just get in and drive, that'll draw them away without firing a gun."

"-I don't want to leave." Scarlett said quickly and resolutely, causing Daryl to stop. From across the room she stared at his outline, wishing she could see his face and eyes. The eyes said more than the mouth every could, and she had no idea what he was thinking. The way her proclamation had come out sounded weak, Scarlett knew. But what else could she do? How could she possibly convince him to let her stay? At least until she found an alternative.

"What?" Daryl shot, and Scarlett inhaled sharply, trying to formulate her words before she spoke them.

"Look, I know having an extra person around is a hazard, but I can be more of an asset than a liability. You know I can hunt, I can get my own food if need be. I've got lots of supplies back at M…His house. I just don't know anyone and I can't think of anything else right now."

Scarlett was met with complete silence although she could feel Daryl's eyes burning into her. She said not a word, staring back at him in the darkness and hoping that his decision would be positive.

"I need to talk about it with Merle." He finally grunted and Scarlett's heart sank in both relief and dread in the same moment.

She knew that if things were riding on Merle, she was as good as gone. The only way he would keep her around would probably be if she slept with him and she sure as _hell_ wasn't doing that. But she had to find some way to convince him to let her stay.

"Okay." She said finally, swallowing. Twitching slightly she quietly sat down only to jump up as the sound of rustling drew her attention across the room.

The echo of scratching on the front door tore across the room and as Scarlett froze in her spot, her heart began to pound letting her know that they had company of the worse kind.


	7. The First Night

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**TWD. **_**Sorry for the long time between updates. I'm back in school, and I lost my flashdrive so writing has kind of taken the back burner (unfortunately). I'll try and get more updates up now that the show is off-season. R&R, and enjoy!**

**The First Night**

Daryl felt his heart pulse wildly beneath his chest as he faced the front door, buried beneath the makeshift furniture barricade.

Beside him, he was barely aware of Scarlett's presence although he could sense her frame beside him and hear her breathing quicken in the darkness as they both faced the door and the loud snarling that seemed to seep beneath every miniscule crack and fill the surrounding air.

"How many do you think there are?" Scarlett whispered, and Daryl shrugged in response, only half-aware of her question as he continued to stare at the door, his mind working swiftly.

There was no telling what was on the other side of that door, or how many. Perhaps if they simply remained quiet, then the things would leave.

But something told Daryl it would not be that simple. From the sounds that continued to creep in from the outside, there would be a number to deal with. Granted, they could stay and fight them off, but that would mean the three of them against who knew how many, and of course if firearms were used that would only draw attention.

The door would have to be fixed, along with the barricade which could potentially attract even more by noise. They had limited supplies in the house, and a majority of the guns were still in the truck. As Daryl thought about it, fleeing seemed to be the best answer.

But fleeing would mean abandoning his home. It would mean leaving the place where he belonged, no matter how many jolting memories remain there. In hindsight, Daryl could not say he had any particularly grand memories associated with the place. His childhood had been a complete shit show, and his adulthood wasn't much better. The time spent in the home was filled with memories of being abused by his father and brother, watching his mother kill herself, and an endless parade of law enforcement coming in to arrest the whole lot of them.

No matter how many bad memories were associate with the place though, it was still his home. It was a part of the Dixon name, tarnished and sullied, the last representation of once what was.

To leave now…would he ever return? He had never even been outside of Georgia before. To leave his home would mean leaving everything behind, potentially forever. In this hellish end of all things, what would happen to the place he left behind? Would it be completely destroyed by those brainless freaks that seemed driven by insatiable bloodlust?

The sound of a gun cocking caught his attention and Daryl spun around as Scarlett worked a pistol in her hands.

"What are you doing?" Daryl asked, and she looked up, her expression icy and impenetrable beneath the dim lighting.

"That door's not going to hold forever." She breathed stonily and Daryl glanced back once more, watching as the pile began to bulge beneath the force of the door being pounded on.

Just as Daryl prepared to answer her the sound of shattering glass drove his attention across the room to one of the boarded up windows. The wooden planks that covered the frame began to part ominously as a grimy hand poked through.

"Upstairs." He growled, then spun on his heel and drove Scarlett up the long staircase. Running down the hallway he barged into Merle's room to find his brother standing at the open window, the entire room bathed in the light from the ceiling fixture, light which radiated out into the night attracting every conceivable creature for miles.

"You brought them here!" Daryl exclaimed angrily, hitting the light switch furiously. The damage was already done. They were surrounded, and here again it was Merle's fault.

"I was supposed to know those things were prowling around?" Merle replied idiotically, grasping a rifle between sweaty palms.

Daryl felt a soft hand land on his forearm and twitched involuntarily. He never was one to like being touched, least of all being touched unexpectedly.

"We should make for my place. I've got plenty of food and supplies, the house is in the woods. At least for the time being. I say we head there, at least until morning or until you guys can figure something out."

Daryl glanced at her carefully. There was no time to think, and the sudden echoing snarl which drifted up the steps told him that Scarlett's option was the only alternative.

"Yeah and how do you propose we get out of here doll? In case you forgot those things are tearing down the front door right now." Merle drawled.

"Yeah by your doing." Daryl challenged. She was their only option, they couldn't have arguing. Not while the house was being torn down.

"You guys have a car?" she nodded at Daryl, ignoring Merle's jab.

"Yeah we took Everheart's truck here. I got the keys." He responded, digging in his pocket then pulling out the heavily-laden keychain. As he said the name he noticed Scarlett flinch and again found himself pitying her situation. Still, she was holding it together which impressed him all the more.

"Where is it?" she breathed.

"Parked outside, surrounded by freaks. You got a plan to get past that?" Merle grumbled from across the room and Daryl hesitated, looking over at her.

For a moment, Scarlett chewed on her bottom lip, a dark look crossing her face before nodding, expression suddenly impassive. With her jaw clenched tightly she stared at Daryl with furious eyes, so indomitable that he was forced to look away even as he wondered what was behind her froze expression of emptiness.

"What if there were someone to distract them while the other two got away?" she suddenly spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

"And who do you suppose will do that?" Merle cackled, and Daryl did everything in his power not to grab her by her delicate shoulders and shake her violently. They had known each other for a matter of days and now she was suggesting one of them sacrifice themselves for her? Daryl may have felt some strange desire to protect her, but that was going too far. Perhaps Scarlett was putting a bit too much importance on her own life. In the end, Daryl would fight for his brother and no one else.

"I will. I'll go downstairs and distract them and you two can go out the window." She responded after a moment.

Despite the explosion of violent noise downstairs, all seemed to fall silent. Daryl's stomach seemed to drop and he gazed at Scarlett incredulously, uncertain of what he had just heard. She was going to sacrifice herself? For two people she barely knew, one of whom had left her with a black eye? Nothing about it made sense, and despite his desire to keep only himself and his brother alive, he would not let her do it. He had not saved her life just to see her try and play hero.

"You won't make it out." Daryl sneered, and she pulled the house keys from her pocket, tossing them at him and giving a ghost of a smile.

"….I'll meet you guys down there. You should move fast, the gunshots will attract any more in the area." She responded resolutely, her tone soft and almost…hopeless.

Before Daryl could say anything else she spun on her heel and left the room. Standing frozen in his spot for a moment he found himself unable to even think. The way she spoke was not of a person with intentions to survive. It was the tone of someone facing their death and having accepted it. He couldn't let her go through with it. Not there, that couldn't be the hour of her demise right in his own home after all he had done to save her.

"You heard her, come on." Merle rasped behind him without a second thought. Slipping through the open window Merle crouched on the roof, staring through the window frame at his Daryl where he remained frozen.

The sound of a gunshot made him jump, heart leaping in his chest and he stood, grabbing at his crossbow.

"What are you doing?" Merle hissed, leaning in and grabbing Daryl's arm.

"We gotta go get her!" he replied back, attempting to break free of his brother's grip. She didn't stand a chance down there, no matter how good a shot she was. Not if more of those things were pouring in.

"I ain't dying for that broad! You heard her say she would take care of it now come on!" Merle screamed, grabbing Daryl by his neck and pulling him through the window frame as though he was a ragdoll.

The cold night air slapped his face and Daryl looked below the roof where a group of about six or seven of those creatures made their way through the front door, which sat directly beneath his feet.

He couldn't leave her. There was no way in hell he was going to leave her to have her face ripped off by one of those brainless walking corpses. That was no way for anyone to go. No one deserved that, least of all her.

His decision was made as Merle pushed him from the roof. The air blew around his frame, weightlessness taking over for two seconds before he hit the ground hard, crossbow jolting his spine and sending pain throughout his entire body.

More gunshots in the house. Any more in the area would indeed be coming now.

Pulling himself to his feet Daryl looked around as he thought of a plan. Damn right he was going to save her.

* * *

"COME ON!" Scarlett screamed at the top of her lung, pressing her gun against the rotting temple of one of the dead as it clawed at her with missing fingernails and bloody hands.

Without thinking she pulled the trigger, blood spattering her face and neck along with the chunks of decomposing brain matter which made her gag.

The sight of them was awful, the stench even worse. These things were rotting before her very eyes, up and about, attacking and clawing with yellowed teeth and jaundiced eyes. Organs, bones, and muscle was flayed and exposed, the body in various states of exposure so horrific that Scarlett wondered if that was to become of her.

Scrambling up the staircase she ejected the empty magazine and replaced it with a new one before turning around to face the surging crowd. Each time she killed one, another emerged to take its place in an endless cycle of predatory drive.

The thing that was strange about it was the group was small, yet they seemed to be an infinite and endless mass that continuously rage no matter what she did.

Scarlett hadn't planned on making it out alive, however, she also did not plan on being torn limb from limb. She didn't stop to think about what would happen if one of these things tore a chunk out of her. Would she become one of them? Walking around, dead, without a soul? The disease seems to be transmitted through biting. Did the same go for all kinds of contact? What if she had it then and there and was waiting to begin decaying?

The way Scarlett saw it, she had nothing. It was more than likely her parents were dead, Michael was dead, she had no one in the world. Always having been a different kind of girl, from the time she was born she psychologically placed more attachment on people rather than things. For Scarlett, home was with those she wanted to be with, not a physical place.

She felt empty, hopeless, and afraid. What else was there? There wasn't a way to bring Michael—who she had been forced to shoot point blank—back. He was the only thing in her life that mattered, and now he was gone. What did she have to live for? A bleak future filled with day-to-day struggles for simple existence?

No matter how low the Dixon brothers were, in these times, Scarlett could recognize not only the importance of life, but the importance of family. She was not surprised or angered that they so readily accepted her offer to leave her behind as a distraction, in fact, a part of her respected it. They were survivalists. They did what came naturally.

Still, Scarlett wondered how things could have been in another life. She had just met Daryl Dixon, and he saved her life. While Scarlett did not explicitly believe in God, she held some strange theory of reincarnation and believed that she would be back on Earth again. Perhaps then the two would meet, and perhaps then their fate would be a lot different.

Firing her gun into the heads of several of the dead, Scarlett wondered if a bullet to the head would be the easiest solution. They had to be out by now, and if they weren't, she had done all she could. There were not enough bullets on her to continue fighting as she rushed into the living room and blocked herself into a corner with furniture.

Sliding down onto the ground, Scarlett looked down at the gun, noting the monogram on the butt then sighed. Michael would call her a coward, but perhaps meeting death was more brave then dying with fear.

Pausing, she took the gun then pressed it against her temple, closing her eyes and squeezing her lips together tightly. This was it. This would be the end, her brains splattered across the wall. She would go peacefully in a world where peace no longer existed and regretted nothing about it.

Index finger on the trigger, she faltered and thought about her life. She had done absolutely nothing to help the world, she had saved no one, and would leave no imprint behind. In essence, her death would not be missed. Especially in a world where everything had just gone to shit.

And then, as Scarlett mused carefully, the sounds of a revving engine drew her from her daze and she glanced up through one of the broken windows, watching small headlights approach which could only belong to a motorcycle or scooter of some sort.

Staring in awe, the world crashed around her as the broken-down door and scattered furniture gave way for a remarkable entrance by none other than Daryl Dixon, crossbow slung around his neck.

He rode into the house intently, drawing the attention of the advancing crowd then screamed at Scarlett over the noise.

"I'm drawing them out. The truck's outside, get there. I'll follow you guys." He said then took off through the destroyed door frame, leading Scarlett's attackers out with him.

* * *

Daryl wiped a bead of sweat from his brow as he stepped back and looked down at his rough palms, indented by the furniture he had just moved.

"I think that's good." Said a voice behind him and he looked back, trying not to jump in surprise as he found Scarlett looking at the boarded and blocked window with a hammer in her hand. She had snuck up on him in a way that wasn't humanely possibly. She was more light-footed than he himself was.

Daryl said nothing. Since they had arrived at Everheart's home, she had made no mention to what had happened (or what was going to happen) back at the house. Daryl had driven around a few times to throw off the dead, then met up at the house where Merle and Scarlett were awaiting his return on the front steps.

It was a strange feeling, how things changed in the world. He was now standing in the dining room of the Everhearts, a place he never thought he'd be with his brother and a girl he had just met. A girl he had just saved.

Something in him he couldn't identify couldn't let her go through with it. It was clear she did not have intentions of making it out of that house alive, but Daryl couldn't let her die like that.

Perhaps it was the humane side of him, nestled beneath the intimidating stature. No one deserved to die like that. Or perhaps it was the strange attachment he had towards her.

He couldn't say he cared for her much. He couldn't even say he really liked her at this point, but being together during the end of it all generally meant developing connections that wouldn't happen under normal circumstances. It was the same with some of the guys he used to run with in his late teens. He didn't care for them, but when they faced things such as life or death situations, they ended up forging a strange connection that lead to some strange devotion.

Daryl could even say the same about his brother Merle, who he would go to the ends of the earth to save. He loved him, and he loathed him at the same time, and besides being his blood, he had been right on the floor with him before their father when he would go on his rampages.

"I think we've got everything taken care of. Why don't I fix something for you guys?" Scarlett said, her voice slightly hollow.

Daryl said nothing. Despite the fact that it was nearly five in the evening and he had not eaten all day, he had gone longer before without a decent meal.

The moment they walked in and did a sweep of the house the rest of the day had been spent making it impenetrable. Stripping planks from the floors and walls, moving furniture. Now, there was no way they'd be attacked without them hearing it, and there was no way any light or sound could escape the house without effort.

Daryl was uncertain of where Merle was, something which made him nervous. Somewhere in the house his brother was doing something that had the potential to get them killed, and Daryl was uncertain of exactly how to go about finding him. He had gone around once when they were boarding things up, but not again since.

"Here, come with me and you can figure out what you want. I used to think He was crazy the way he kept meat frozen, but now I realize that he was ahead of the game. There's pounds of all sorts of meat frozen, and lots of non-perishables in the pantry. I think we should try and get rid of the perishable stuff first though. There's cold cuts so I'm thinking sandwiches. If we do two meals a day we have enough for about two months, comfortably. And I…"

Daryl stopped listening as he continued to follow Scarlett into the kitchen, thinking silently. She was talking as if nothing was out of the ordinary, although the way she clenched her jaw and furrowed her brow told Daryl she indeed was feeling the effects of the hellish world around them.

Making their way into the kitchen, Daryl glanced around at a house that housed decades of history. Pictures, objects, and items decorated the walls in an old-fashioned country home that Daryl always wished he could have grown up in.

"Okay, here we-"

Her words caught in her throat and Daryl glanced over as she stiffened, staring at something he couldn't see with one hand on the refrigerator.

Without a word she snatched something from the door violently as the sound of ripping paper echoed throughout the room. Tossing to two scraps aside carelessly she opened the door then dug around, taking far too long than it should have.

"I'll get Merle." Daryl offered, sensing that perhaps she wanted to be alone. She let out a mumble in reply and Daryl spun around, leaving the room and knowing the moment he turned his back she was going to cry. When he turned his back, she would show that she was truly human.

Grabbing the polished banister of the carpeted staircase, Daryl made his way up the steps as he thought to himself quietly. It seemed that both he and Scarlett were in the same situation. They were both alone in the world with nowhere to go.

He still had Merle of course, one scrap of flesh and blood no matter how shitty their relationship was. That didn't change the fact that he was essentially alone in the world, because although Daryl would go to the ends of the Earth for Merle, he could not say his brother would do the same. When it got down to it, the only person he really had was himself, same as always.

A small whine caught his attention and he walked down the hall of the second floor, glancing up at the pictures and memories that dotted the walls. The family he had spent his entire life hating, and now nothing really mattered.

Gazing at the light which poured from a half-closed door, Daryl stepped into the room to find Merle sitting on a large bed, gazing across the room at a television screen.

"Hey get over here and get a load of this! I told you that girl there was a little freak, she and Mike had their own little home movie collection!"

Before he could fully understand the words his brother had just said his attention shifted to the television and he watched for several seconds before coming to a complete understanding of what he was looking at.

Scarlett's back was to the camera, though Daryl could immediately recognize her long tresses. Her curls trailed down her bare back which sported the smallest of tattoos on her shoulder, something Daryl had not caught when he saw her changing.

She was straddling the guy he could only have assumed to be Everheart on the very bed which Merle sat, grinding her hips furiously on his lap as his hands grasped her ass.

The girl who was consistently put together, strong the survivalist that rivaled he himself whined and keened before him in a way that made Daryl see her as an entirely different person. It was impossible to tear his eyes away from her round ass which Everheart continuously grasped.

They both moaned, and much to his confusion and horror Daryl felt a rush of blood flow to his loins as he continued to watch the video, involuntarily imagining himself in Everheart's position all while Merle audibly droned away about the same thing.

"Guys I made-"

Both brothers' heads snapped as Scarlett entered the room and glanced from both of them to the television. Merle gathered his wits quicker than Daryl could, barely skipping a beat as Scarlett stormed across the room and turned the television off.

"Just the three of us, trapped in a house for God knows how long? I knew you were fun from the moment I saw you. Don't know how you keep up with them great tits and that ass but I ain't complaining. I'm more than ready when you are." Merle drawled with a cackle, eyes raking Scarlett's body lewdly.

Daryl remained where he stood, feeling his face heat. He had nothing to say. What _could _he say? When he looked at Scarlett now all he pictured was her laying on the bed before him making those noises that sounded so…well _sexy_.

"I made you guys something to eat if you're done in here. Got some beers I want to get rid of too." She said stonily, face and voice devoid of emotion. Eyes flickering to Daryl quickly he looked away, unable to make eye contact.

With that, she spun on her heel and walked out of the room with the posture of a woman who was beyond angry.

"I'll give it about a week. Girls like that can't go long without a good fuck. Maybe I'll even let you go first, get a nice taste before I destroy her." Merle growled and put an arm around Daryl.

"Don't touch me." Daryl growled, jerking from beneath his touch with disgust. Furiously, he turned around as well and left the room, unsure if he was more angry with Merle for putting him into such a situation or himself for reacting the way he did.

They were in a damn war for their lives. This wasn't the time to get distracted by something as simple a piece of tail. He wouldn't last long if he fell prey to his baser instincts.

Daryl stormed through the house in frustration, battling the vile thoughts that careened through his head. Thoughts of being on top, behind, and inside Scarlett all kinds of ways that made him not only uncomfortable, but also aroused.

He couldn't go down and face her. Not now when all he could think about was her sexually. With a sigh, he walked into the bathroom then turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his heated face and looking up at the mirror.

_I love you more today than yesterday. –S_

The heavy script was scrawled onto a piece of paper tucked into the frame of the mirror tightly. Across from it was another message, this one in messy handwriting.

_And each day more than that. –M_

"Daryl?"

His heart leapt in his chest at her voice, body jumping with surprise. Leaning against the doorframe timidly and poked her head in as though trying to determine whether or not she should come in.

Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. It was also colored with emotion and when Daryl dared himself to glance at her, he found himself met with the evident mask of vulnerability. The way she crossed her arms was not commanding, but more that of someone trying to protect themselves from the world. Only one other time had Daryl ever felt the urge to give someone a hug, and he had not then and would not now. But a part of him wanted to say something to let her know it would be okay.

He couldn't say he understood, because he didn't. He had never loved someone, and didn't even really believe in it, but he understood Scarlett had cared about Michael Everheart greatly, and had not only lost him but killed him herself.

"You should eat something. Besides, if Merle kills all those beers himself we might have a situation later." She attempted lightly, but Daryl could see through her faint smile. Nodding, he wiped his wet hands on his pants and stepped past, her scent flooding his nostrils.

He hesitated for a moment, seemingly frozen where he stood as their bodies pressed against one another, her curls tickling his face. For a moment, he began to say something. He wanted to say he was sorry, and no matter how much he used to hate the guy it didn't really matter now.

But he didn't, and he wouldn't. Instead, he simply stepped past her and headed down to the kitchen without a word.

* * *

Scarlett sat on the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of scotch and wishing she could be drunk, high, intoxicated, inebriated, completely out of her mind so that she could figure out some way to deal with the situation she was in.

Michael was dead. That statement of fact continued to run through her head as if her mind were trying to remind her. He was dead, he was not coming back, and his death lay in her hands.

A part of her continued to believe she would awaken somewhere to find all of this some bizarre, hellish nightmare. None of it made sense. Flesh-eating walking corpses? A disease which spread like wildfire? None of it seemed real, it all seemed to be part of some horrific film or book.

But the very air she breathed around her was real. Real with the lingering scent of a man who washed with the same soap every day and neglected cologne because "he liked to smell like a man". The very man she had made a home with, the only man she had left.

And she had put a bullet in his head. Scarlett had shoot his brains clean through, and here she was now with two unfamiliar men in an unfamiliar place with nothing to do but try and survive.

She had not argued when Daryl rode into the house commanded her to escape. She did not argue, she did not hesitate, although she should have. In that moment, she was too weak to put herself out of her misery and avoid this plague that spread across the planet. Now she had to suffer with no one by her side.

She still could not understand why he had saved her, and Scarlett was both grateful and resentful at the same time. It felt as though she now _owed _him, now felt some attachment to him that she did not want. Not when he could die at any moment.

He should have simply let her be. He should have let her die like she planned, and gone along with his brother like she had anticipated. But Daryl Dixon proved to be a much different man than she expected, and Merle Dixon proved to be the bane of her existence.

Between Merle's constant sexual advances and stupidity and Daryl's sulking, Scarlett was unsure how any of them would survive. For the time being she wanted to believe they were safe with food and decent shelter. She had made sure every nook and cranny in the house was impenetrable, but what of the up and coming days?

How long would this last? Weeks? Years? They couldn't stay forever. Surely, the government had to be doing something, coming up with some sort of evacuation or protection plan.

But natural disasters had taught her not to put her faith in the U.S. government. And this was far more than a monstrous hurricane. This was…the apocalypse, or so it seemed.

Hopping from the counter Scarlett slammed her empty bottle down and padded into the living room quietly to check on her two guests. Merle snored loudly (and drunkenly) on the couch, and Daryl slept on the floor beneath him, huddled into a small form that made him look child-like and quite vulnerable, a contradiction to his usual self.

Hand on his crossbow he breathed deeply, eyes moving beneath his lids. Scarlett said she would stay up through the night, taking a watch that three of them (more like two) would stick to for their time remaining. Two asleep, one awake to assure they weren't attacked in the middle of the night.

Next to her bare foot Daryl trembled lightly, and Scarlett grabbed a blanket from the pile she had deposited on the end table and unfolded it carefully, before draping it over his body carefully and making sure he was warm on the floor.

Suddenly, his eyes opened and he looked up at her and stirred groggily.

"What is it?" he murmured as Scarlett marveled at how light a sleeper he was.

"I was just covering you up, you were cold." She whispered softly, crouching down.

Looking down at the blanket he mumbled thanks then sat up and looking around the dim room, lit by candles.

"Time is it?" Daryl asked.

"About two. Hey, go back to sleep, everything's alright. I'm sorry I woke you." Scarlett said but he shook his head, shifting to his feet and looking down at his brother.

"You go to sleep. I'll keep watch." He suddenly said, and Scarlett blanched. Although she trusted Daryl significantly more than Merle, the thought of one of them roaming the house while she slept made her uneasy. Just leaving Merle alone for 20 minutes had resulted in him unearthing and _watching _the very private tapes she had made with Michael but a few weeks earlier.

She couldn't blame Daryl. She knew he had probably gone to find Merle and stumbled upon him already watching it. Besides, she could already tell from the way he acted around he that he wasn't particularly comfortable with women in general. Scarlett had to wonder if he had ever even dated a girl from the way he acted.

"Look, there's no way I can get to sleep tonight. I've got it." Scarlett persisted, looking him directly in those steely eyes.

Daryl said nothing and looked around, sinking back to the floor carefully.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep on the other couch? Or one of the chairs?"

"I'm fine." He grumbled, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up roughly.

Scarlett hesitated for a moment as he rolled over on his side. She had never gotten the chance to really thank him, no matter how much she wished he had just left her back there.

"Listen, I never got the chance to say thanks for earlier. You know, coming back for me…" she trailed off, her voice suddenly dry.

His shoulders moved in a shrug and she took that to mean he appreciated her thanks. Leaning down, she hovered over Daryl for a moment then gave him a small kiss on the cheek which made him recoil as though she had branded him with acid.

Standing up, she tip-toed out of the room quietly, thankful he hadn't pried any further into the fact that she had clearly planned to commit suicide.

Silently she moved to the table in the kitchen and sat down leaning forward and placing her face in her hands. And in that moment, all alone in the world, once again that day Scarlett allowed herself to cry.


	8. Survival of the Fittest

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**TWD**_**.**

**Survival of the Fittest**

Daryl awoke to a dampness on his arm, and looked down to find he had drooled onto the carpeted floor as well as his bare skin.

Wiping the clear fluid from his mouth and arm in disgust, he sat up and looked around with half-closed eyes as a sweet scent flooded his nostrils.

His body told him it was right before dawn, but with the windows boarded and every conceivable crack in the house covered, he was physically unable to look at the sky and tell exactly what time it was.

The entire room was bathed in darkness with the exception of the television which glared with the light of a gas giant. Squinting against the harsh glare, Daryl covered his eyes then glanced up as he felt movement graze the hem of his pants.

Sitting on the couch above him was Scarlett, seemingly unaware that he had awoken. Clutching a shotgun in her dainty hands, she stared across the room at the television, her face rapt in the illumination of the glowing light.

Sitting up carefully, Daryl glanced up as she gazed down at him, noticing movement. Without a word or any acknowledgement, she looked back to the television with a curious look on her face, one of both astonishment and horror causing Daryl to turn his attention to what she was watching.

From where he sat, he could not see a thing and was forced to stand up awkwardly, stretching out his stiff muscles which had fallen victim to the night cold as he slept on the floor. Rising to his feet and looked around, Daryl shifted to view the television and immediately found himself more enveloped in the idiot box than he had in his entire life.

"This thing went nationwide, possibly global. They're calling for evacuation of all major cities. It has to be too late though. At least for New York." Scarlett said in a hollow voice below him and Daryl continued to look at the television, the entire sinister event unfolding in front of him.

Different shots flooded the screen, including one of what he recognized as Times Square, an aerial shot which showed thousands of massing bodies which had all come to be infected by what they were calling an epidemic. Several reels of footage recorded attacks and were cut short, signifying the reporters had been overrun or abandoned their mission. Others featured the president sitting down somewhere Daryl had never seen, implying that he had been evacuated while the rest of them were made to fend for themselves.

"What a fucking shit show. The world's completely fallen apart." Scarlett muttered, shaking her head then grabbed the remote and clicked off the television before sighing and sinking further into the couch. It was then that Daryl noticed the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels beside her and the way she tilted her head, looking as though she was ready to collapse.

"Are you drunk?" Daryl heard himself say without thinking, his voice escaping in a harsh growl that betrayed anger he hadn't even begun to feel yet.

Scarlett tilted her head back and looked at him, inhaling deeply then shrugging.

"I guess you could say that." She slurred, the whipped her head around and stood quickly, teetering on her lean legs slightly and leaning against the couch.

"You were supposed to be taking watch!" Daryl snapped, his temper flaring with borderline panic. So now he was going to have to take care of her too?

"What does it matter? We're fucked anyway. I just thought I'd get good and drunk before I died tonight. Your brother had the right idea." She responded nastily then collapsed back onto the couch weakly, burying her head in the cushions.

In that moment, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hit her. He wanted to take her by her shoulders and bring the back of his hand across her cheek repeatedly. He longed to push her onto the floor so roughly that she cried out in pain, and shake her violently until she cried. He wanted to physically instill some sense into her and so she would come to realize what she had done and what kind of situation they were in. More than anything, he wanted to know how he had overseen such a weakness.

"So you got drunk? What if those things came prowling around? You expect me to save your ass again?" Daryl spat furiously, his blood boiling with each moment he looked at her pathetic and pitiful form.

Wordlessly, she contorted her neck and looked up at him through glassy wide eyes which made his upper lip curl in disgust.

"You think we're going to make it? I'd rather die drunk than trying to run from my life from those fucks. Optimism is for those who don't know any better." She shrugged, then slid from the couch and onto her feet, walking over to Daryl as best she could, stumbling slightly.

Putting her hands around one of his arms she sighed, causing Daryl to jerk himself from her touch as he clenched his fists. He wanted nothing more than to punch her as he wondered what had happened to the girl he knew. Was she always like this? Weak and pathetic behind the façade?

"What? Do I make you squirm? Are you gay or something?"

Immediately Daryl turned from her, clenching his fists dangerously. He had never hit a girl before, in fact he didn't believe in it but he was two seconds away from sending her reeling across the room.

"I mean if you are that's fine but I can't help wonder. I kissed you on the cheek yesterday and you acted like I had some sort of disease. I'm not saying I'm the most beautiful girl in the world but come on, man? Who reacts like that?"

"You need to sleep that off." Daryl growled, back still to her as she continued to talk.

"Don't be mad, take it as a compliment. Mike would say it but I'd tell him 'no, no way. He's probably just not interested in anyone period. He's like a kid, you know.'"

With this she moved from the couch and began to walk slowly, before her hands landed on Daryl's shoulders, causing him to jump once more. Spinning around furiously he clenched her wrists, squeezing harshly without reserve and pushing her back onto the couch unceremoniously.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed as she fell back without a thud and Daryl left the room without a second thought, unable to stay in her presence any longer. Just as he reached the staircase he heard the familiar voice of his brother and ascended the stairs, letting Merle deal with it. If she wanted to get drunk in the middle of a life-threatening situation, then she could die for all he cared.

Besides, if she was inebriated it seemed there would be no way for her to fend off Merle's advances, and it would serve her right. And Daryl knew his brother would most certainly take advantage of the situation.

Storming up the stairs he angrily listened to the floors creak beneath his feet, peering into dark rooms as he attempted to calm himself.

Coming upon what he knew to be Everheart's bedroom the second time Daryl stepped in and flicked on the lightswitch, glancing around the room once more.

Immediately he looked at the television, his mind returning to the video he had seen. The thought of Scarlett again brought a rise of anger within him and he shook his head before looking around the room once more as he tried to clear his head.

Curiously, he walked over to the nightstand beside the bed and found a small journal, the front covered in handwriting he had seen in the bathroom; it belonged to Scarlett.

Without reserve he flipped open the small book to the last written page, wondering what thoughts flooded the mind of the drunken mess downstairs.

The last dated page had been that very day.

_I suppose I can use this journal now as a preservation of the human race. Fuck psychiatrists and counseling. We're far beyond that now, we're at the very end of the world, or so it seems._

_Each passing moment I keep remembering: Michael's dead. And how exactly can I forget? I smell his scent, I see his clothes, I see the dent in the bed where he used to sleep. And I killed him myself. Of course I keep wondering if this is indeed some sort of disease, if there's a cure. And if there's a cure, could Michael have been cured? Did I kill him needlessly?_

_I guess there's no space for questions like that anymore. Not with what's going on. Already, the world has changed so much. I've got a racist redneck and his brother in the living room. Fate's an interesting mistress. _

_I'm so lost now. My family is probably dead. Any friends I had are too. All there is left to do is survive I guess, and I'm not sure exactly how long that will last. Daryl and Merle are here for now, but I know that they'll save their own assess long before mine, although I'm still a little bit confused at the very fact I'm writing this right now. _

_Daryl saved me. I could tell the way he looked at me he knew I wasn't planning to get out of there alive. But he risked his life and came back for me, and I still can't understand why. He looked at the very world with nothing but contempt. Even his own brother. I can see that he cares about him, but still hates him at the same time. _

_He makes me hate myself. I know his life sucked, but is that a reason to treat people like shit? After all, this is survival. We need to work past our differences. Still, he saved my life. I don't understand why, but he did. If I'm going to be with him, I must—and will make the best of it. _

_So now all that's left is survival. There's food and supplies for a bit, I know we should have power since this is a rural area even though we won't be using it. I don't know what to do for the future though. I suppose I'm using this journal so that when I die, the world will know. Perhaps when things go back to normal and a new civilization arises, they will know what we fought for. _

_And as long as we're alive we're fighting. We'll continue to fight, procreate, and survive. _

Daryl closed the journal and tossed it onto the bed haphazardly. So, he had been correct. She was planning to kill herself. Of course in that moment, Daryl wondered if perhaps he should have just let her. After all, she had given him the keys.

Still, he could not part with her. Not then, and not now. Not even in that moment where he was certain he absolutely hated her. Daryl was certain it was because she was a necessary tool for survival, and hated to admit it but he needed her.

He needed her strength, not the mess that tramped around downstairs. He felt for her loss, but the fact that she had turned to drinking still gave him second thoughts. He already had to babysit one person, he was not ready to take care of another.

Without words he continued to look through the bedroom. He sorted through pictures and notes, each more unsettling than the last. Sappy writings between the dead Everheart and Scarlett showing feelings Daryl could never know nor understand. He could see that they loved each other though, whatever that meant and each new letter revealed to Daryl how difficult his loss must have been.

There were a series of pictures of Scarlett, clad in a striped men's button-down shirt and sitting on the bed with her long legs crossed and a "come hither" look on her face. Daryl studied the image carefully, noting the way she grinned, her eyes all but glowing in a way that made him realize they were now dim.

* * *

Scarlett stood on her toes, reaching for the top shelf in the kitchen to grasp a bowl that Michael had always assisted her with.

"I've got you doll." Came a raspy voice behind her, and Scarlett felt a hand land on her waist as a body pressed against her. Reaching up, Merle grabbed the bowl and set it down on the counter in front of Scarlett, his hand still on her waist.

"Thanks." She muttered, slipping from beneath his grip and crossing the kitchen to the stove. Grasping the bowl she dipped a spoon into a pot of chili on the stove and began to spoon it into the massive dish, swallowing as the spices flooded her nostrils and caused her eyes to water.

"Cooking up three meals, guy could get used to this." Merle commented and Scarlett allowed herself a small grin, looking up at him and shrugging.

"Getting married and taking care of someone is all I ever really wanted." She replied in earnest.

"Well it's not too late. Don't know about the marriage thing but you can always take care of me." He replied, then came up behind Scarlett once again and pressed himself against her, putting his hands on her hips.

Scarlett allowed him to remain where he stood for a moment. Despite his offensive comments, irritating attitude, and constant advances, Scarlett was beginning to believe that Merle may have been harmless. Daryl not so much, but all Merle seemed to want was to live a hedonistic lifestyle. She couldn't quite blame him for it.

Gazing down at her five-alarm chili Scarlett covered the pot and wiped her sweaty hands on a towel, making her way across the kitchen and grabbing a half-empty pack of cigarettes from the counter.

Lighting one up quickly she inhaled, wondering when and if she'd ever buy a pack again. Michael hated smoking and made it clear he didn't want it in the house, something Scarlett had always respected. But Michael was no longer here. All that remained was a memory, the image of his head exploding from the bullet Scarlett had pumped into it.

Everywhere she turned she felt him. She never saw herself as particularly religious, and generally identified as agnostic but in a spiritual sense she was sure she could feel his presence in the very house, as though he was watching over her and letting her know he was there to protect her.

She hadn't seen Daryl all day, not after her drunken mishap. Scarlett was deeply ashamed, and a large part of her hoped she would have died in the night, giving her drinking a purpose. But she did not, and proved right in front of him that she was weak beneath the tough exterior she tried so hard to maintain. Now that she looked back she realized not only how foolish her actions had been, but how selfish and dangerous.

None of the doors or windows had been disturbed, letting Scarlett know Daryl was still in the house. As to where, she did not know but she was wary to go and find him. Even in her intoxicated haze she could tell he was both infuriated and disgusted with her, and a part of her was unsure if she would find him rummaging through her things as she did him and his brother the prior day.

In all of the events, humiliation was the last thing on her mind. When she had walked into the bedroom that had once been her sanctuary to find Merle and Daryl watched one of the many sex tapes she had made with Michael. Scarlett barely had time to think about it, and with impending doom surrounding them, it was really the last thing she needed to worry about.

But the back of her mind still nagged about the intrusion of privacy, as well as the fact that both brothers had seen her in the most intimate of settings. Beyond seeing her naked, they had seen her fucking someone.

For Scarlett, having sex was one of the times she felt the most vulnerable. She gave herself over totally and completely to her partner, as well as her body's urges and desires. She released the control she so desperately clung to, and let her body control her desires.

It took one look at Merle to know that the phrase "sexual misconduct" was probably not unfamiliar to him. He was aggressive, and Scarlett knew if she wasn't careful she would find herself in a situation that she preferred not to think about.

As for Daryl…well, she was unsure what to think exactly. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her whenever she looked away, and couldn't tell if his glare was out of spite or desire like his brother's. A small part of her could not help but wish for it to be the latter.

The moment the thought flittered through her head Scarlett curled her upper lip in disgust. The world was crashing around them, and the man she had loved was dead at her hands. The very last thing she should have been thinking about was the affections of another man.

The simple fact was it sounded like a good escape. Thinking about something normal like being wanted. In these times, Scarlett could imagine nothing more peaceful than obliging Merle and allowing him into her bed.

Of course she wouldn't. Sex seemed more frivolous than standing on a rooftop with lights strung up and calling every one of those creatures to the yard. That didn't stop her from thinking of it, and in those thoughts momentarily believing things had gone back to normal.

Taking another drag from her cigarette Scarlett flicked the ashes into the kitchen sink and transferred her thoughts elsewhere.

There was no telling how long they'd have water and electricity. Being in the mountains meant significantly longer than the city, but the time would still come. The only way to get water would be the surrounding rivers, and there was no telling if those would be safe as the epidemic continued.

"Why don't you give me a drag of that." Merle breathed, stepping beside her. Scarlett offered the cigarette to him which he inhaled straight from her fingers, staring into her eyes before putting his hands on her waist and leaning in so that their faces were inches apart.

"How about a quickie? Let's see how many times I can make you scream." He growled, and Scarlett felt her face heat with the familiar rush of sexual excitement.

Merle was utterly repulsive, not to mention morally bankrupt. But as her emotions welled within her in confusion, she could not stop her body from responding the way it did.

As a teenager, each and every time Scarlett faced trouble she dealt with it the only way she knew how: on her back. She used sex as an escape in an unhealthy way that did more damage than good. Michael was gone, and in truth, there was no way for her to handle it. She had cried. She had drank. She had thrown things. But still, she could not get over him or distract herself from the pain.

Merle's hot breath tickled her lips as he exhaled a plume of smoke that made her eyes water.

"Look at you. I knew you wanted it. I bet you're getting wet." Merle growled, leaning closer so that his lips hovered near her neck.

Scarlett exhaled involuntarily, feeling her heart quicken in her chest. Something about the way he talked to her, so vile and disgusting made her all the more excited.

"What makes you think that?" she breathed, her breath catching in her throat.

"I see the way you look at me. You like it all sorts of ways." He growled, moved one of his hands invasively to her waist.

Without a moment's hesitation, Merle plunged his hand into the elastic waistband of Scarlett's Soffee shorts and made their way into her panties, feeling her.

She gasped aloud at his intrusion, feeling a subtle throb between her legs. Merle chuckled in response and Scarlett's face burned with a mixture of pleasure and shame.

"I knew it. How do you want it? From the back? I can grab those pretty tits of yours."

"…Stop." She breathed, her voice barely a whisper as her eyelashes fluttered. Merle's rough fingertips trailed the sensitive skin of her vulva before plunging into her.

"Nice and tight." He muttered, before diving in and pressing his lips to her neck.

"Merle, please…" Scarlett breathed once more, closing her eyes as his teeth scraped her skin.

"…Stop…" she pleaded again, more to herself than him. Taking her hands, she put them on his shoulders and tried to push him away gently, struggling as she thrust into his fingers without being able to stop herself.

"Wait until you get my cock."

"No, stop." She said again, louder this time.

With that he began to thrust his finger in and out of her forcefully, even as Scarlett squirmed against him in protest.

"You don't want me to stop." He chuckled.

"What are you doing?!" a voice cried out and Scarlett opened her eyes, glancing over Merle's shoulder as Daryl stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Merle spun around and she took the opportunity to shrink from under him, straightening her clothes and crossing her arms over her chest to cover both her hardened nipples and her shame.

"Hey brother, just spending some time together in here." Merle commented before sucking on his wet fingers in a show of vulgarity. Pulling them from his mouth loudly he smirked at Scarlett, eyes glowing dangerously.

"I…..I was making dinner." She managed, stalking across the kitchen and opening the pot of chili. Behind her, she listened to Merle and Daryl exchange tense words and stirred the pot before slamming the spoon down on the stove and bending down, bottom lip quivering as tears pricked her eyes.

She could feel the accusatory stare on her back, Daryl's eyes burning holes right through her. She could tell he knew. She had said no, she had tried to push Merle off, but not nearly as hard as she should have if she really wanted him to go.

Scarlett couldn't help but admit that she was glad Daryl had intervened. After all, in the last minute she realized she had no business being with Merle at all, and knew for certain that things might have gotten violent had he not arrived.

Turning around, Scarlett dared herself to look at Daryl. He stared at her for a moment, before turning towards the door.

"W-wait. Dinner is almost ready. Could you maybe h-help me with the plates?" she choked, hands shaking slightly. Before she knew it, Scarlett's hands were trembling wildly and she felt her throat begin to constrict as her chest tightened.

"Oh….no….not…" she trailed off, gasping for air with each breath as she leaned against the sink for support. As the room around her began to spin she clutched her chest which began to ache painfully. A panic attack here and now was the very last thing she needed.

"What's the matter?" she heard Daryl ask from what seemed to be miles away. With each straggling breath, Scarlett grew faint, the very life seeming to slip from her. Trying to force air into her lungs and began to slip against the counter, falling to the floor.

As darkness began to cloud her vision she felt hands on her upper arms and whimpered, letting her body fall limp as she threatened to pass out from hyperventilation.

"Taking a deep breath." A raspy voice demanded harshly and she closed her eyes, feeling a calloused hand come to rest on her cheek.

"Take a deep breath." The voice commanded, this time shaking her a little bit and she tried, pulling air into her lungs then coughing.

"Again. Deep breaths. In and out." The voice said, and she did as told, her vision slowly returning and weakness subsiding. After what seemed an eternity, Scarlett opened her eyes and blinked past the tears, breathing still slightly labored as she gazed up at Daryl's face. With one arm around her and another on her face, she gazed up into his eyes in that moment, seeing her savior. There was no other way to quite describe it.

Lifting a shaky arm, Scarlett placed her hand on Daryl's shoulder and he twitched lightly, looking down at the limb before glancing back to her. It was then that she noticed how beautiful his eyes were, beneath the shaggy brown mane and furrowed brow that covered them.

"Come on, we're moving you to the table." He muttered, lifting her from the ground and Scarlett clutched him tightly, doing the best she could on her faint legs. Carrying her to the table he helped as she collapsed into a chair, leaning against the wall and tilting her head so that it rested uncomfortably on her shoulder.

For several long moments, Scarlett sat in the kitchen as the aching in her chest subsided and her breathing returned to normal. Looking up through watery eyes she met Daryl's eyes, then wiped her red face.

"Thank you." She murmured softly with both embarrassment and appreciation. Daryl said nothing in return, but simply nodded to let her know he had accepted her thanks.

"With…Merle too." She added, and this time he met her eyes, staring at her intently for several moments in a way that made goosebumps rise on her flesh. It was as though he saw right through her façade. He knew that she had nothing if not led Merle on.

"Need to be more careful around him." He replied, and Scarlett nodded, standing up on shaky legs and walking across the kitchen. Removing several bowls from the cupboard she began to set the table, Daryl watching her from way she sat as though waiting for her to go down again at any minute.

"I know I…" she trailed off, at a loss for words. Shrugging simply, Scarlett grabbed an empty glass and filled it with water from the tap before taking a drink. It seemed things were going to be a lot rougher than she thought.

* * *

"Damn you just had to cock-block me brother. I tell you I had my fingers deep inside her, you should've felt how tight she was. Wet too, just after a couple seconds. I knew she wanted it, I can't believe you had to step in."

Daryl zipped up his pants, listening to Merle's voice as his brother shaved in the mirror behind him.

Flushing the toilet, he walked to the sink and began to wash his hands, pushing Merle aside as his temper flared.

"Not like I wouldn't have given you a turn. I bet you she's like us both at the same time. I just can't wait to get my hands on those tits of hers, I'm thinking tomorrow."

When Daryl had walked into the kitchen to find Merle and Scarlett in a position he quite preferred not to think about, a series of thoughts went through his head. First, there was the expression on her face. Wide-eyed, horrified, and above all scared. He wasn't sure exactly what the truth was, but from what he saw it looked like she was being forced.

And it was when Merle retracted his hands from her pants that he realized that in all her sultry ways she had probably brought it upon herself. That didn't stop it from angering him to see his brother touching her like that. No one should have been touching her like that.

"I've got it. You take the back, I'll take the front. Well, your call. A piece of ass like that, I'm willing to let you choose how you want it." Merle chuckled, bringing a razor to his skin.

Unable to take anymore, Daryl shoved his brother so that he stumbled, the razor nicking his skin.

"Don't talk about her like that!" he exclaimed angrily. If anyone were to call her a whore, it would be him and him only.

After an awkward dinner during which Merle continued to leer at Scarlett, Daryl still found himself slightly mystified by her panic attack. He could tell the signs instantly, as his mother would experience them when she wasn't drunk. In fact, depression and anxiety were her crutches for drinking.

It wouldn't do well to have her breaking down like that if they were out somewhere and surrounded by those things. It wouldn't do well at all. In fact, it was one of the biggest liabilities Daryl could think of, besides having someone pregnant.

But in the moment when she was so vulnerable, falling into his arms and weeping like a child he felt like he needed to protect her, just as he did now.

"Made me go and cut myself goddamn. What's your problem? You want her all to yourself? She make your dick hard?"

At this Daryl cringed, although he couldn't deny he found her attractive. When he held her as she cried, he found himself surrounded by her scent, her curls rubbing against his face and her warm body soft in his hands.

"Just keep your hands off her before she throws us out." He mumbled, then stepped past a bleeding Merle and into the hall before his brother could say anything further.

Making his way down the steps, he stopped at the landing as he found Scarlett at the base, making her way up as well.

Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she now wore a pair of black stretch pants tucked into hunting boots, as if she was preparing to go somewhere.

"What are you doing?" Daryl asked.

"Let's go hunting."


	9. Running with the Enemy

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**TWD**_**. Keep on reading and reviewing! Writing this while listening to Kanye West's **_**Yeezus**_**. Perfect accompaniment to this story, if you're into that kind of music. **

**Running with the Enemy**

"What do you mean go hunting?" Daryl furrowed his brow in both confusion and irritation as Scarlett stood before him, acting as though they were spending a sunny Sunday afternoon together, instead of being holed up while flesh-eating freaks walked the streets.

"I mean let's go out and kill some stuff. Get locked and loaded, blast some fuckers brains out." She shrugged, toying with her gun easily. It was perhaps her carefree attitude that angered Daryl the most. He was becoming steadily frustrated with her emotional rollercoasters, as she was proving to be more of a nuisance than an asset.

"Are you crazy? Or you just trying to get yourself killed again because I ain't going to come to your rescue this time. You want to be stupid do it without me risking my neck." Daryl snapped, taking absolutely no pity as her eyes widened. It was as if she intentionally tried to make him give a damn about her, when all he wanted was to see her as a person of no significance.

"I never said I needed you to play hero for me. I'm not a damsel in distress." She finally responded, attempting to get back at Daryl though he could tell there was nothing behind it. His comment had stung, and they both knew it. More than likely because he was right.

"Well I'm not saving your ass again. Want to act all crazy and get the rest of us killed, that's not an option for Merle and me. You want to get out so bad? Go!" he exclaimed, watching her flinch slightly before spinning around and heading for the front door.

Daryl watched as she began to move furniture, slinging the rifle over her back. She was probably waiting for him to call her back, but he wasn't going to. He couldn't keep saving her, not when she got herself into trouble.

Then, a series of sharp raps at the door caused both of them to freeze in their steps. Daryl watched as Scarlett grabbed the gun, holding it up and he himself dashed into the living room, collecting his crossbow and rushing behind her. The knocks continued, this time more frenzied and louder than before, along with shouts that he couldn't make out.

"They're knocking to hard to be walkers. There's somebody out there." Scarlett whispered, creeping towards the door slowly. Daryl followed close behind, just as Merle dashed down the steps.

"What the hell is going on down here?" he asked, and Daryl quickly shushed him, pointing to the door.

As Daryl neared the door, he could make out the sounds of panicked cries as the banging became more fervent.

"Let me in! Please somebody let me in!"

Setting her gun down, Scarlett climbed the tower of furniture, throwing a table to the floor and Daryl lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back sharply.

"What the hell are you doing?" he whispered, as his worst fears were acknowledged. Whoever was out there had heard her move the table, and knew there was someone inside.

"There's someone out there, help me move this stuff." Scarlett said, her eyes shining with a sickening kindness that made Daryl nauseated.

"Stop! How do you know that's not one of them things out there?"

"They're speaking. When did you ever hear them talk?!" Scarlett exclaimed, and Merle appeared behind the both of them, leaning over and whispering to his brother.

"Please they were chasing me! I know someone's in there!"

Desperation. It held no sway over Daryl's heart, even as he grabbed Scarlett with all her strength and pulled her back, half-dragging her to the staircase with a hand over her mouth as she struggled. The moment they made it to the staircase he removed his hand and she began to curse wildly, her temper holding such ferocity he never could have imagined. For a moment Daryl was certain she would shoot him if not for Merle, who would kill her on the spot.

"They're being chased means they lead those things here. They could show up any minute. You let that person in they could already be turning into one of those things and bring the rest in. You want that to happen?" Daryl hissed, and Scarlett quieted slightly.

"We can't just leave them there." She shook her head, looking at the door.

"Well baby girl it's us in here and them out there. You want to play hero you can go join 'em, though I was hoping you'd stay around a bit longer though." Merle spoke up, leaning against the wall casually and Daryl resisted the urge to push him, although his brother said exactly what he was thinking. If someone was being chased, a mob wasn't far behind them and admitting entrance would only allow the house to be swarmed. It was too dangerous to consider doing what was right. It was all about survival.

Scarlett opened her mouth to say something then stopped, biting her lip and looking at Daryl sadly.

"You're right I just…" she trailed off, then shook her head and retreated up the stairs slowly, turning off lamps and blowing out candles as she did so. Daryl stared after her, then retreated to the living room, doing the same. Quietly, he readjusted the barricade of furniture, ignoring the cries outside the door which evolved into screams as Merle's theory proved correct. Clutching his crossbow tightly, he turned and looked at his brother.

"Get the kitchen lights." He commanded, and for one of the few times in his life, Merle did so without a wise-crack or argument. Crouching on the ground, Daryl stared at the door, listening to the painful sounds of the desecration of the human body.

"How many do you think are out there?" asked a light voice, and Daryl jumped slightly, shocked to find Scarlett behind him. Once again, she had managed to creep up on him without a sound.

"Don't know." He whispered, and she took a spot on the floor beside him, cocking her shotgun. They waited in complete and total darkness, no sound but the snarls which came from outside as the creeps lingered in front of the house, perhaps sensing the presence of living beings inside.

Tense moments passed, accompanied by stiff muscles and fearful movements before finally, after what seemed to be an hour or so the noise died off, signaling that at least a majority of them had left, giving them yet one more day of life in peace.

"Someone needs to keep watch tonight. I'll do it. You two sleep upstairs in case you need to make a window exit."

Daryl found himself speechless for the first time, unable to come up with words to describe his disbelief that she would say such a thing after the last time she took on the role. Daryl had awoken to find her drunk, abandoning her responsibility for the sake of dealing with her emotions. Daryl no longer wanted to trust her as far as he could throw her, particularly with his life.

"So you can get drunk again?" Daryl snarled, and Scarlett sighed.

"I deserved that. But I'm being serious this time. I-"

"Just go. Babysit Merle if you an even handle that." Daryl grunted then turned to face the door once more, glad he couldn't see what her face looked like for once.

* * *

Scarlett padded down the stairs quietly, taking her time in the complete darkness as she questioned whether she should turn on the lights once more. She'd been down the stairs so many times but it was different without even the moonlight to guide her. The windows were boarded and blocked, forcing her to rely on only her memory and senses.

Feeling the cool floorboards beneath her feet, she clutched the blanket tightly as she walked into the living room, peering around the couch as she found Daryl, sitting in the same spot she had left him. Grabbing an electric lamp from the table she turned it on, setting it on the floor in the center of the room and bathing the place in dim light.

"I brought this for you. The floor gets cold at night." She whispered, handing him the blanket and he took it, his eyes giving thanks. Stalking across the room, Scarlett grabbed a scrapbook off the mantle and brought it back over, sitting beside Daryl. Opening it, she quickly flipped the pages until she found Michael's ancient class picture and leaned over.

"You were a cute kid. Classic two front teeth missing on picture day." She spoke softly, and Daryl glanced at her sharply, looking down at the picture.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, almost angrily and Scarlett crossed her legs.

"It was Michael's. He's got one scrapbook, birth to…death I guess. We took this when I first moved down here a few weeks ago." She continued, flipping to the last photograph. In it, she stood beside Michael with a smile on her face that seemed completely foreign now. With a hand on his chest, she looked the happiest she ever had been. She _was _the happiest she ever had been.

And it now seemed a lifetime ago.

"Guess this is never going to get filled completely." She whispered, then shut the book and shook her head, bringing her knees up so she could rest her elbows on them.

"My mom died. When I was a kid." Daryl broke the silence, his voice a hollow rasp and Scarlett stared at the floor, resting her chin on her arms as she waited for him to continue.

"She was a drunk. Drug addict. Depressed. Never conscious. Around physically but never mentally, all she did was just lay there. Probably because the way my dad beat the shit out of her. Came home one day from hanging out with some kids. It was a good day. And I saw all these people standing around my house just watching as I came in. She fell asleep with a cigarette in her hand. Burned the place down. And her body…" he trailed off, his voice aching so much that Scarlett yearned to reach out and hold him.

"After that it was just me and my dad and Merle. Merle was in and out. Jail. With ladies, criminals. When he was there he took the worst of it from dad. When he wasn't it was just me on my own. Made me hate kids like Everheart who had it all." He finished, and Scarlett glanced at him, studying his profile in the darkness.

"I was always lucky. When I was a kid I got everything. I was the only child, my parents spoiled me. Then I got older and I wasn't who they wanted me to be. When I came down here…my parents pretty much disowned me. I haven't spoken to them since I don't even know if they're…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Might be alive." Daryl shrugged, though Scarlett could tell he didn't believe it. She didn't believe it.

"I know what you think of me. We didn't start the way I hoped. But it's just us now, you know. I'm thankful for everything you've done. Rescuing me, saving me from Merle. If you hadn't come in I don't know what would've happened." She shook her head.

"He would've raped you." Daryl replied simply and Scarlett allowed herself a small chuckle at his up-front and honest way of saying things. It was true. Scarlett would have found herself in an incredibly compromised position if Daryl hadn't walked in when he had.

"It's obvious you two have been through hell and back. But I can see you care about him. And he cares about you. I get that. Blood is thicker than water. So I know that if it ever comes down to it and someone has to stay behind…" she shrugged, and Daryl stared at her for a long moment.

"What the point of just giving up without a fight?" he suddenly asked, his upper lip curled in disgust and Scarlett found herself taken aback, shocked that in her moment of admission Daryl would find it within himself to turn her statement into something selfish.

"This isn't about death. It's about me just being honest in I understand you two will save each other's assess before mine."

"It's like all you talk about it dying. I risked my ass for you –"

"-Yeah. In case you didn't notice, death is all around us. I don't know what your problem is with me exactly, because you and I both know what happened to the world. I try and have a conversation with you and you just jump down my throat."

"Who the hell told you to try?"

Scarlett paused for a moment, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in the darkness. Standing up slowly, she placed her hands on her hips and stared at the ceiling like a frustrated parent. It was as if she couldn't win, no matter what. First he indulged her with the most personal of facts, then attacked her for no reason. She didn't understand him, and quite frankly Scarlett was uncertain if she wanted to.

"You know, we're stuck in a house together. We're stuck in this shitshow together, and I don't know for how long. Trying to at least be acquaintances is probably the least we could do." Scarlett shrugged, then grabbed the lamp, heading back up the stairs. It was she who established the rule they would all sleep in one room to keep it safe, but at the moment she wasn't certain how much of the Dixon brothers she could take. She had no idea where Merle was, and had no plans of letting him know she was upstairs alone. So, treading carefully, Scarlett did her best to make it to Michael's bedroom soundlessly, leaving the door just creaked and shutting off the lamp before slipping into bed. As she clutched a pillow tightly, she could still smell traces of him. It was as though he was gone for the night, soon to return in the morning with a kiss for Scarlett.

Though she knew, Michael was not at Harry's, spending a late night. Michael was dead. He had died, come back to life, and forced Scarlett to kill him. He wasn't coming back, and the world was not returning back to normal.

* * *

Daryl zipped up his jeans, turning his head sharply as he caught the sounds of a scream over the rushing toilet water. Gripping his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder, he rushed out of the bathroom and bounded down the second floor hall, towards the source of a very audible scream.

Rushing to the bedroom, Daryl threw open the door, barely aware of Merle pounding behind him and held up his crossbow, expecting to find Scarlett being torn apart by those vicious freaks. Instead, he only found her thrashing around in the bed, apparently asleep, loud enough to draw them for miles.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Merle grunted, and Daryl walked over to the bed, standing as he tried to figure out what exactly to do. Was he supposed to hold her down? How would he wake her up? The way she was moving around, twisting in the sheets like she was fighting some demon. He was certain if he laid a hand on her he'd get punched in the face.

With that, Merle stormed over and lifted his hand, aiming it for Scarlett's cheek but Daryl caught his wrist just in time.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he asked, gripping his brother's wrist tightly.

"Waking the bitch up before she gets us killed that's what." Merle replied, yanking his arm from Daryl's grip.

"Don't hit her!" Daryl exclaimed incredulously. Leave it to Merle to rough someone up when they couldn't fight back. Any moment he had to get at Scarlett for not having sex with him, Daryl could see that. Pushing his brother aside, he set his crossbow on the floor then leaned over, putting to hands on Scarlett's face and holding her head.

"Wants to play kissing Sleeping Beauty." Merle crowed obnoxiously, and Daryl glanced back at him, then returned his attention to Scarlett, grabbing her wrists this time and trying to hold her as she jerked, mumbling words as her eyes moved beneath her lids rapidly. Unsure what else to do, Daryl finally grabbed her in his arms, shaking her slightly.

"Wake up!" he grunted, and her eyes finally snapped open with a gasp as though she had been physically ejected from the dream. Inhaling deeply, she gazed through wide eyes straight past Daryl before bursting into violent sobs, her body heaving in a way that seemed downright painful.

"Leave." Daryl turned his head, speaking to Daryl then glanced at Scarlett, unsure what he should do, but feeling compelled to do something. She looked more vulnerable than ever, crying nothing like she had in the kitchen. These tears were painful, and Daryl was certain if he didn't calm her down she would make herself vomit.

"Easy…easy…" Daryl repeated quietly, putting an arm around Scarlett awkwardly and trying to make her stop heaving so violently. As his hand landed on her back, she did the thing he least expected and wanted—fell into him, resting her head on his chest as she let out choked sobs.

Unsure of what to do and incredibly uncomfortable, Daryl simply remained where he stood, letting her cry into his shirt until finally her choked sobs became small squeaks and she sat up, staring at the wet spots on his shirt.

"I'm sorry. Let me get you another shirt." She sniffled, her face swollen and Daryl said nothing, knowing the distraction would prove more of a help than a hindrance. Walking across the room, she opened a dresser, rummaging around then pulled out a flannel shirt, returning to Daryl and letting it fall onto his lap.

Glancing down at it, he wondered which part disturbed him more: wearing a dead man's shirt, or wearing Everheart's shirt. He couldn't help but admit the mixture of salty tears and mucous that clung to the fabric of his own disgusted him. Staring at the shirt, he glanced at Scarlett, feeling his face heat with embarrassment at the thought of her seeing the scars on his back.

"Turn around." He grunted, unable to look her in the eye. Saying nothing, she stood up and walked to the other corner of the room, and Daryl turned his head to check she was not looking. Quickly, he shed his shirt and traded it for the flannel, checking repeatedly like a young child for fear that Scarlett would set her eyes on the hideous marks which decorated his flesh.

"May I turn around now?" she spoke softly after several moments, and Daryl cleared his throat, ashamed at both his inability to do something as simple as change his shirt in front of her, and the whole situation in general.

"Yeah." He mumbled, and she returned, sitting on the bed then resting against the bedpost, bringing her knees to her chest. It was then that Daryl realized for the first time she was wearing a white oversized t-shirt and seemingly nothing else. Even through the dim candlelight, he could spot her hardened nipples peeking through the thin shirt and forced himself to look away.

"I had this dream…well nightmare really. He asked me…why I did it. W-why I shot him? And then he started eating me. All of them. And it was so painful, and so real. I could feel them, tearing away my skin and I could feel the warmth of my own blood while I watched. And then I became one. Walking around without a soul…" she trailed off, and Daryl dared himself to look at her.

With her hair loose around her face and her chin resting on her knees, Scarlett almost looked like an innocent child, not the woman she was, and the horror written on her face was enough to tell Daryl the impact the dream had on her. He himself had never given much thought to what would happen if he became one of those things, but he shared Scarlett's view: it seemed a fate worse than death.

Sitting up, Scarlett leaned across the bed on her knees, reaching for a digital alarm clock and Daryl couldn't help but take note of her long legs, his eyes stopping at the bottom of her shirt which was so close to exposing the bottom of her ass. One movement would be enough for the garment to shift, giving Daryl a peek of her bottom.

Both to his relief and disappointment, however, Scarlett finished with the clock having turned on the radio and sat back, this time pressing her legs together tightly. With her head turned towards the clock, Daryl took a moment to study her features, the line of her nose, the pout of her lips, before realizing her looks were the last thing for him to be looking at.

If there was anything that point to the apocalypse, it was the radio broadcast, a looping warning which repeated the same thing over and over again.

"_The President of the United States has declared a State of Emergency. Citizens of Georgia are advised to stay away from major cities, in the safety of their own homes with minimal lighting. A safe haven has been set up in Atlanta, travel at your own discretion. This has been a message from your government. The President of the United States has declared…"_

It continued on and on, and after listening several times Scarlett leaned over and turned it off, then tended to a candle which was on the verge of burning out. The new flame illuminated the room with new life, and she let out a heavy sigh, tossing a pack of matches onto the bed.

"Do you think we're going to make it out of this. I mean us as in…the world?" she finally asked after several moments comfortable silence and Daryl glanced at her and shrugged honestly. It was hard to tell, but at the moment the answer looked like a resounding "no".

"I don't think life will ever be the same. Maybe we'll all just die out. The short story of Earth. This thing can't have gone global. How would it cross the oceans and skies? An airborne virus that powerful…" she trailed off and shook her head.

Standing up, Daryl grabbed his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Scarlett suddenly asked, her voice full of what sounded like slight panic.

"Back to watch. No one down there." He replied, noticing as her head dropped slightly as though she wanted his company longer.

"I guess I'll take something to get me back to sleep. That way if we're attacked in the middle of the night I'll die peacefully." She said with a hollow attempt at a laugh and Daryl simply stared at her, wondering what the full magnitude of her personality had been before any of this happened. Before she even moved to Georgia.

"Thank you for…you know." She finally said and stood up, walking across the room with her arms crossed. As they stood in front of the door, Daryl found himself unable to move as she stood on her toes and planted a small kiss on his cheek, more near the corner of his mouth. And before he could acknowledge it she was gone, leaving him to wonder if it had actually even happened.

* * *

Scarlett stared at her cell phone, gazing at the one remaining charge bar left. Throughout the past few days she had left it off, giving no thought to charging. After all, who could she call? It wasn't as though people would be walking around with their phones on them, not while they were running for their lives.

Gazing at the small Blackberry device, she let it bounce in the palm of her hand, then turned to glance at the small piece of paper beside her on the bed, scrawled with three names:

_Mom_

_Dad_

_Joanne Marshall_

Pursing her lips she stared at the names. Growing up, her mother refused to allow guns within the house, possibly the cause of their very downfall in the newly-formed order of chaos. Scarlett wanted to feel in her heart that they were alive. She wanted to know that her parents were safe, off with her father's connections somewhere safe and worrying about her as well.

But she couldn't hope for anything less than reality. What was the possibility that they were actually alive? If here in the remote and isolated foothills, where small groups of the infected roved, it went to show the crowds would only get larger with the growth of civilization. Her parents lived in a moderate sized town, small enough to be completely overrun within the course of a day.

It didn't make sense to Scarlett that Atlanta was being promoted as a safe zone. There was no way the government could stave off the infected there if they couldn't even do it in the smaller cities. More than that, the question still remained: where did all of it begin?

The first thing on Scarlett's mind however, was her parents. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the one-familiar numbers on her phone and put it to her ear, surprised the call went through. As it rang, she bit her lip anxiously, feeling her face twitch in fear as her parents' voicemail message came through.

Quickly hanging up Scarlett sat and stared down at the floor. Of course, the chances of them answering their phone in the first place was slim. They could have abandoned the device, and moved elsewhere. They also could have been dead.

When Scarlett awoke from her nightmare earlier to find Daryl's strong arms surrounding her, she did something that was both dangerous and harmful. She decided she would save her mourning, shut it all out, and harden herself as she never had before. She could grieve afterwards. Right now, was the time for survival.

It first occurred to her the previous night when the mystery person arrived, begging for help on her doorstep. And Scarlett had to turn her back, knowing she needed to choose her own life if she wanted to see another day. No matter how inhumane it was, Daryl was right. She was losing it, and she quickly needed to get it back together before she lost the trust of her newfound group.

She needed to do whatever she could to make certain they were by her side, protecting her at all costs. And that meant keeping both brothers happy. That meant in particular, keeping Merle happy.

Scarlett knew that deep down, Daryl had a kind soul which never quite saw the opportunity to blossom. Every so often, she could see kindness slip through his hardened eyes, and it was apparent more than anything Daryl trusted no one. Not his brother, not even himself.

Studying the complexity of their relationship was interesting to her, because she tell they both loved each other. They were brothers, and at the same time hated each other. They would do anything to protect one another, but still couldn't trust one another.

And Scarlett was on the outside, the sacrificial lamb when the occasion called for it. The past few days had given her new insight into life. She didn't know what would happen, if things would eventually return to normal, or if they would live out the rest of their lives running. All she knew, was that she would keep herself alive, and to do that, she needed allies.

She wasn't sure how she would get on Daryl's good side, though she had a feeling if she developed a deeper bond with him, he was more apt to protect her. It didn't seem to be that hard, after all, there were times when Scarlett was certain she felt a connection with him. But he was hardened, distrusting. She would first have to find a way to get past that.

Then there was Merle, an entirely different story. Scarlett knew even if she offered him her body, he would still throw her to the wolves in a second. She needed to give a reason to keep her around, a reason that could beneficial to his survival, and she wasn't yet sure what that was.

But first and foremost, Scarlett had a decision to make before she began to plan her manipulation tactics. First, she needed to further think of the radio broadcasts statement of Atlanta as a government safe haven. If there even could be such.

There was one person she could think of, whom she could contact, and who would know. A former professor served as a reporter, and who Scarlett knew would be a valuable source of information.

Carefully, she dialed the phone number of Joanne Marshall, expecting nothing, and hoping for everything. It was only when a heavy-breathed voice answered that Scarlett's heart leaped in her chest and she gripped at her bedspread.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Joanne? Joanne? This is…I used to be one of your students please don't hang up…" Scarlett pleaded, and for several seconds there was silence on the other end. She had only gone out on such a limb because she and Joanne established a close relationship during her time at the school.

"Scarlett? Is this Scarlett?"

"Yeah." Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief.

"Wow. Wow. Well, I'm glad to hear you up and breathing. What do you need? I know you have to be calling for a reason."

"Actually I wanted to know if you had any-"

"Information, right? I've gotten this call from so many people. I'll tell you right now Scarlett, I'm holed up in a building with other reporters, waiting for a rescue copter that I don't think is going to come, so what I tell you comes from anger. They're going to fucking leave us in here to die. Where are you? Please don't say Manhattan."

"No I'm in Georgia. A little bit outside of Atlanta?"

"Atlanta…the supposed safe haven. Listen Scarlett, listen to me good. I only have a few moments to speak with you. _Do not _go to Atlanta. The military is struggling there, just like they are in all majors. They're not going to survive long enough and anyone who comes through will get killed. Get as far into the country as you can, find an isolated place, and stay there, do you understand me?"

"Yeah. What can you tell me about all of this in general? I mean what the hell is going on?"

There were several moments of silence, and Scarlett could make out the sounds of shuffling before Joanne returned.

"What I'm about to tell you was marked confidential by the U.S. government. It's a disease of some sort. We don't know where it came from, how it got here, or if it was done intentionally, but it's gone global. No one knows much except getting bit from walkers infects. After some time, a victim turns into them. Some semblance of memory. One of the reporters came back to the building after he was bit. Only some sort of brain trauma works in finally killing them, which means obviously the disease reanimates the body. The CDC is attempting to study, but no one knows how far they're going to get. All I can tell you Scarlett, is that this is just the beginning. The president and his family were moved to a secure location. He deserted us. We're all on our own here, and something tells me we will be for a pretty long time. I prepared for this when I worked in war zones. I've got no family, part of me expected to die in the field. Scarlett, stay alive as long as you can. You're smart. Get allies, enough to protect you but small enough you won't draw attention. And no matter what, _don't draw attention_. They're like animals, drawn to sound and scent, especially at night. I've got to go kid. Good luck."

Scarlett said her goodbyes, then turned off her phone for the last time, tossing it onto the bed as she thought over Joanne's words. She had said, _"this is just the beginning"_, and Scarlett could tell she knew more than she allowed herself to say.

The walkers were like animals Joanne had said, which meant they would scavenge, and after running out of food in the city they would move to the country. More would come into the hills, they weren't safe. Joanna had told her to stay out of Atlanta, but it seemed safer than being sitting ducks. Besides, they could always turn around if the city was not safe.

Making up her mind resolutely, Scarlett stood up. Atlanta. They would go to Atlanta. But the first challenge would be getting her new pack to agree, and her very first step would begin with Daryl Dixon.


End file.
